


Ever for You

by moffnat



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cinderella Elements, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It's about the longing, Love Letters, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Physical Abuse, Pure ass shit, Romance, SUPPORT YOUR MENTALLY ILL FRIENDS, Schizophrenia, True Love, Wedding Night, dimimari is the galaxybrain 3H ship, for real this is the cutest garbage i've ever written, is there a 'bad parents' tag, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffnat/pseuds/moffnat
Summary: Tenderness was not restricted to a simple feeling. It could be peach cobbler beneath the stars on a riverbank, dark confessions and kindred spirits and a featherlight touch on a cheek or chest, laced fingers, long horseback rides and soft conversation. Tenderness could be the way she felt with Dimitri. It could be the way he helped her like herself, one moment at a time.A Cinderella AU. Illustrated by @sethkiell, @riotbonesand@hanccckon Twitter.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Mercedes von Martritz, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, HOLY FRIENDSHIPS Y'ALL, Marianne von Edmund & Hapi, Marianne von Edmund & Ignatz Victor, Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro, dedue and mercie are another side romance, so i changed my mind the sylvix is pretty important lol
Comments: 155
Kudos: 161





	1. A Chance of Sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THINGS TO NOTE BEFORE READING:**   
> 
> 
> * It's Fire Emblem time, baby. This is my first time writing for this fandom! Welcome, friends! Dimimari owns my ass now.  
> 
> * Dimitri and Marianne are the primary relationship here, with Sylvix being the secondary, but each one listed in the tags gets worthy airtime!  
> 
> * This fic kinda mangles with the game's timeline, so I'll set it straight: Garreg Mach still happened, but there was no war. Marianne and Hapi did not attend. Dimitri still had his break and went into psychosis for a minute, but it didn't last five whole years. Now we're in post-timeskip world. That's basically about it.  
> 
> * The "depictions of violence" tag is solely for Dimitri's hallucinations. The rest of the fic is pretty tame.  
> 
> * I'm sure people would have preferred Hilda to be Marianne's best friend instead of Hapi, but given the circumstances of the story, Hapi is a better fit. I love how their dynamic works so it'll be alright, I promise!  
> 
> * I plan on updating **every Wednesday** , so check in weekly. If you liked this, please leave a comment for me. :) Enjoy!
>   
> 
> 
> **soundtrack choice:**  
>  [[opening; craig armstrong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwgQDsGfleY)]  
> 

The rooster called at dawn. Marianne had come to dread the sound, a reminder that the time to sleep had ended and the world would soon jump back into motion. Sunrise bled through the curtains and spilled upon the attic floor. She lay in her makeshift bed with her eyes half-open, watching. What must it be like to be one of the sun’s rays, she wondered, always warm among little golden friends, letting no obstacle block your path? It must be heavenly. She rose and pulled open the shredded curtains so more sunlight might make shapes upon the wood.

Birds twittered in the trees outside her tiny window. Marianne did not mind living in her father’s ramshackle attic, so long as she could hear them sing. She closed her eyes and listened with longing. The birds sang of joy and togetherness, of morningtime and nurturing their young. Midsummer in Faerghus was such a lovely time. A time for festivals and good harvests and children with endless laughter. Marianne observed these things from a distance, listened to the birds and their tunes of love, but did not participate. Not necessarily because she couldn’t. She simply did not deserve to.

With a sigh, Marianne knew she could wait no longer. She dressed in one of her three threadbare dresses -- today was a day for green -- and tied her apron around her waist. She pulled a shred of cloth around her head to keep her bangs from her face and slipped her delicate feet into a pair of ragged slippers. A splash of cold water on her cheeks woke her fully. She looked into the mirror and frowned at what she saw: a plain face with tired grey-brown eyes, a messy sky blue braid hanging over her shoulder, pale hands roughened from work, a small mouth. It was little wonder she’d never risen above her station. Marianne shook her head before taking her wicker basket by the handle.

The alarming difference between her chilly attic and the manor she cared for was lost on Marianne. She’d spent years among these painted halls, dusting every elaborate nook and cranny, scrubbing every marble floor, beating every expensive Adrestian rug. He was a man of style and fashion, her adoptive father, but also of cruel punishment. One porcelain vase an inch out of place would have her thrown in the stocks until Margrave Edmund felt like releasing her. Discipline leads to improvement, he always said.

Ah, but mornings in the barn were Marianne’s favorite. She stepped out into the crisp summer air and felt her shoulders ease. She pet the friendly cow and scratched the chickens and geese on their little heads, then set to work tending to their needs, making sure they were all happy and comfortable. She could not speak to animals in a fairytale sense, but she could understand their feelings and wishes, or so she liked to think. One horse in particular had taken a great interest in seeing her smile. “You are my favorite friend, Dorte,” she told the horse often, a grey stallion well into his twentieth year. She was very fond of telling him her problems. Dorte was an excellent listener.

Once her basket was filled with plenty of eggs and jars of milk, Marianne lugged her daily findings back into the Margrave’s kitchens, hoisting them atop the counters. She was both animal caretaker and servant, washer and gardener, butler and chef. Only on occasion would Margrave Edmund hire aid for her, when lavish parties and political meetings demanded more than one pair of hands. The rest fell to her. Not because she was particularly exceptional at these tasks, but because she was just useful enough to do them.

“Boo!” whispered a voice. Marianne shrieked and whirled around. Hapi, a servant from the next estate over, burst into a fit of giggles. Her smirk was devilish. “Gotcha.”

“You shouldn’t do that, Hapi,” said Marianne with a frown. She placed a hand over her thundering heart. “I don’t like it when you scare me.”

“Okay, okay. It’s still funny, though.” Hapi hopped up on the wooden counter. Her rose pink hair was wildly unkempt and the sun complimented her caramel skin, making her glow. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I just finished with the animals. I still have to go into the market for bread, sweep the walkway, dust the library, wash and dry the linens, feed the mice --”

“Nope.” Hapi held up her hand to silence Marianne. “I wanna do something weird today, Sunshine. Something totally unlike us.”

“What do you mean?” Marianne raised her brow. “Please don’t get into trouble, Hapi. Duchess Cornelia won’t be pleased if you break someone’s carriage again.” She paused a moment. “Where is the duchess, anyway?”

“Gone.” Hapi shrugged. “I killed her.”

Marianne gasped.

“Nah, just kidding. The look on your face is pretty good.” Hapi chuckled under her breath. “She’s gone to some court thing in the city. Won’t be back until nighttime.”

Marianne released her breath, turning back to counting eggs. “What, um... what did you want to do?” She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to spend more time with her friend. Hapi was filled with apathy for the world and it’s goings-on, but she always knew how to help Marianne see things as they truly were, rather than what she feared them to be. Between Hapi, Ignatz and Dorte, Marianne believed she could try to lead an enjoyable life despite her circumstances. “Nothing dangerous.”

“Nothing _too_ dangerous,” Hapi emphasized. “Iggy wanted to paint the edge of the forest. If you’re brave enough to go near it, we can all have a picnic there. Surely your snake of a dad can give you a day off.”

“He won’t.” Marianne frowned, looking down at her twenty-two eggs. Nine less than she’d hoped for. “It’s a miracle he isn’t awake already, or else he’d make you leave. I’m sorry, Hapi. You’ll have to go without me.”

Hapi sharply breathed in. She paused in aggravation before letting out a slow, steady exhale. “You almost made me sigh just then.”

“Oh,” said Marianne. “I’m sorry.” She cast her eyes to the floor.

“No, stop it!” Hapi hopped off the counter and took Marianne by the shoulders, turning her so the two of them stood face-to-face. “Tell him you’re picking herbs or berries or something. You’re coming with us, okay? It’s happening.” Her eyes softened. “It’s been way too long since you let loose, Sunshine. We’re worried about you.”

Marianne looked into Hapi’s eyes. For a girl who claimed to care so little about what happened around her, she was very observant and kind to those who needed it. “I’ll try,” she promised. “I’ll meet you there with Dorte before noon, if I can.”

“I guess that’s as good as I can hope for.” Hapi moved away. “We’ll set up by Iggy’s usual painting spot at the tree.”

“Okay.” Marianne forced a smile. She watched Hapi stroll out the door, kicking the same rock all the way down the cobbled path. Such a strange girl she was. But if there was anyone who understood the nature of the curse within Marianne, it was her.

The eggs she’d gathered had to be prepared, pickled and sealed away in jars, placed neatly on the cellar shelves to store for later. All except three, which Marianne would fry with a side of pork sausage and buttered bread. Margrave Edmund was very particular about how he wanted his meals. Every evening before turning in at exactly eight o’clock, he would leave a list of what he planned to eat the following day so Marianne would have time to make ready. She checked the day’s list thrice over to verify that all his requested breakfast items were arranged on the silver platter. The kitchen, she scanned to ensure it was pristine. Once confident, Marianne took the platter in her arms with delicacy and ascended the twisting staircase to the room of her adoptive father.

Considerable care had to be taken. Margrave Edmund’s foul mood could ruin Marianne’s hope of spending time with her friends, among several other things, depending on the severity of his temper, which he reserved solely for her. Marianne set the platter on a nearby table. Once the great grandfather clock downstairs chimed nine, she tapped her knuckles on his gilded door. “Father?” she called, her voice just above the hum of a whisper. “Breakfast is ready.”

Margrave Edmund said nothing at first. Marianne knew better than to leave before ten minutes after the hour. She always waited until a quarter past, just to be safe. She counted the seconds in her head until a total of eight minutes had passed, and she heard a voice.

“Enter.”

Marianne picked up the platter in haste and opened the Margrave’s door.

Her father’s room was a dreadful mess, a hypocrisy compared to the order of his estate. Tattered books and rolls of parchment were scattered across the floor like autumn leaves. His wardrobe door was wide open, revealing rich, half-hung cloaks and tunics that Marianne had washed and pressed a fortnight past. Dust lingered in the air and the room was dim, tall elegant windows smothered by blood red curtains. Margrave Edmund sat at his desk by the light of a single candle, writing. The feather of his quill caught in the light. “Bring it here,” he said without looking at her.

Marianne came forward. She slid the platter of food onto the open space to his left. “I added a fresh side of jam for the bread,” she told him. “It’s the strawberry jam I made from the harvest last week. You mentioned that you liked it.”

“You may go,” he replied.

A frown settled on Marianne’s lips. Though she never strove to be loved by the Margrave, his displeasure affected her as surely as though she had. Marianne nodded before turning away, making herself small, stopping as she came to the door. Hesitating. “Father,” she said. “I was wondering if you would like for me to go to the market. They’re selling fruits from Derdriu today, and they might have some left.”

Edmund paused his writing to consider. “You’ve collected the eggs?”

“Yes.”

“Cleaned the kitchens?”

“Yes, father.”

“Folded the linens? Scrubbed the floors? Tended the animals?”

“Yes.” Marianne folded her hands in front of her. She hadn’t scrubbed the floors yet, in truth, but since the Margrave appeared to be in one of his solitary moods, he likely wouldn’t notice.

“Then it is fine.” He waved a dismissive hand to her and continued his work. Marianne curtsied and closed his door behind her, scurrying down the hall before he changed his mind.

“We did it!” exclaimed Marianne once she’d reached the stables, scratching Dorte behind the ear. He snorted with an eagerness to embark. “Let’s go see Hapi and Ignatz, shall we? I know how much you like his paintings.” Marianne saddled her elderly horse friend, giving his neck a few pats of encouragement as she set off toward the forest’s edge.

The landscape of northern Faerghus could be harsh at times, more jutting rock and mountain and coarse dirt than anything, but Margrave Edmund had chosen a softer, smaller land to settle after relocating from the Alliance. Just outside the southern gates of Fhirdiad, his territory was green and lush in the summertime, alive with mighty trees of pine and oak and evergreen. Marianne loved riding Dorte through the small patches of woods along the edge of the city walls whenever she could spare the time. It was dangerous alone at night, but with the turn of seasons and days lasting longer, accompanied by a cool breeze on a summer morning, Marianne felt free.

“Isn’t it a lovely day, Dorte?” she asked him. “I like the Garland Moon. The colors are so pretty.”

Dorte huffed in approval. He seemed to be enjoying himself, turning his head up to the wind each time it gently passed.

“Do you think Ignatz will paint the flowers again? His last painting was so beautiful. He’s very good at scenery.”

Another huff, this time in agreement.

“I wonder if he’ll paint something for me someday,” mused Marianne. “I would love to have one of his works in my little attic. Maybe I could--”

A sharp hissing sound emerged from the brush. Quiet at first, it grew loud enough to turn Marianne’s head. A black snake slid through the grass, curling itself, protecting its home from the equine invader.

Terror struck the heart of old Dorte. He whinnied in fear, rearing on his hind legs. Marianne screamed as she fell from the saddle and collided with the solid ground. Before she could call to him, Dorte bolted forward through the treeline and beyond.

“Dorte!” Marianne shouted as she scrambled to her feet. She ran after him, her boots pounding against the earth with the same ferocity as her heart, moving at full speed until her legs could take her no further. It was a useless endeavor to chase a horse. Even at his age, Dorte was fast, and when scared he would not stop until he felt safe again. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cried out. “Dorte! Please come back!”

Nothing.

Panic swelled in her chest. Marianne held the sides of her sweaty head and let the worry grow, unable to wrestle it. She fed it with horrific thoughts of the consequences, of her father’s wrath, of life without her dearest friend, of starving in the stocks and loneliness and the inescapable dread that came with living on the streets again, and--

“He’ll come back,” Marianne urged herself. She struggled to calm her heart, breathing slowly in and out as Ignatz had once taught her to do. Her hands trembled. “Dorte is smart. Even if he runs far, he knows the way home.”

She took a few moments to breathe. Listened to the calming breeze, felt the softness of her hair, tethering herself to the present.

Dorte may know the way home, but did she? Looking around, Marianne no longer recognized the path she tread, having long since lost the grey walls of Fhirdiad that acted as her guide. What if she was astray in untamed wilds? It was possible that she could never return, her very flesh an attractor for demonic beasts of every kind. Marianne had no compass, and even if she did, she lacked the knowledge to use it. She didn’t know how to track the sun or stars for direction, and only the Goddess knew how far Fhirdiad was.

Marianne tried to remember the direction she’d run from. Taking her best guess, she walked onward, hugging herself close to chase her fears away. 

Her feet began to ache after a time. Marianne would pause every once in a while to hear birdsong or say hello to a pair of chipmunks, even getting so lucky as to watch a fawn and its mother drink water from afar. “A pond,” she noted to herself. The surrounding flowers were exquisite, blooms of brilliant blood red and lapis, far beyond anything Marianne had ever seen. The grass was thick and healthy, and the trees grand. A childish part of her wondered if something enchanted lived in these strange woods, though she knew such magic was fiction. Maybe the Goddess walked here, long ago.

Marianne called for Dorte a few times more before allowing herself a much-needed break, settling on a great boulder. The sun was at more of an angle than it had been when she left home, which didn’t bode well. Her father would be furious. But before she could give into despair, a nearby whinny stole her from her mind. Between the trees, she could make out the shape of a grey horse trotting toward her.

“Dorte!” Relief cleansed Marianne of her doubts. She ran forward, near to giggling as the trees gave way to a small open clearing, a lush field full of wildflowers. Her dear friend came into view. “Oh Dorte, I thought you’d--”

Dorte was not alone. At his side was a man, tall and broad with shoulder-length blonde hair, and not much older than herself. He was dressed in clothes of fine make and a fur cloak with the colors of Faerghus adorned his shoulders. One blue eye was wide at the sight of her. The other remained hidden behind an eyepatch, strapped around his golden head.

Marianne froze, as did the stranger. He appeared to be just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. Neither of them said anything.

“Forgive my rudeness.” His voice broke the silence, deep but earnest. “I didn’t know there was someone else here.”

Marianne wanted to speak, but she didn’t know this man. It was not in her nature to trust. She rubbed her arms, uncertain.

“Is this your horse?” He motioned to Dorte. “I found him running wild just outside of the training grounds. It looked as though something gave him quite the scare.”

“Snake,” said Marianne softly, perhaps too soft for him to hear. She took a breath and sighed. “It was a snake.”

“I see.” The stranger turned to her friend, stroking Dorte’s mane with long fingers. He appeared familiar with horses, at least enough to know how to calm them. “Even the mighty have fears of their own, don’t they?”

Dorte snorted, which Marianne understood to be a sign of acceptance. He didn’t seem frightened or suspicious in the man’s presence. Dorte was a very good judge of character.

“Tell me, miss,” said the stranger. “Do you know where you are?”

“No.” Marianne frowned. “I, um... I went chasing after Dorte, and ended up lost.”

“Ah. It’s alright. I’ve gotten lost here plenty of times myself.” An amiable chuckle followed. “I can lead you back to wherever you were headed, if you like.”

“N-No, I don’t want to trouble you.” Marianne wrung her hands. “I think I’m too late, anyway. I was supposed to meet with some friends, but I’m sure they’re gone by now.”

“That’s a pity. It would be a shame not to wait for someone like you.”

Marianne felt a tense heat rise in her cheeks. To her surprise, the stranger blushed as well, and he rubbed the back of his neck as if he regretted what he’d said. “Apologies. That was careless of me.”

“It’s fine.” 

The two of them looked to the ground, both awkwardly flustered. Someone like her? Marianne wondered what that meant. Something fluttered inside her chest regardless.

“Here.” The man took a step forward, offering his hand. “At least allow me to escort you to the edge of the forest. You wouldn’t want to get caught here by anyone other than me.”

“Why not?” she asked, wary.

“It, uh...” He looked off into the distance. “Well. Let’s just say it’s private property.”

Marianne gasped in horror. “Really? I’m so sorry, my lord. I didn’t know.” If word reached the Margrave that she had trespassed a nobleman’s woods, he would be furious. His image, tarnished. “I-I’ll leave at once. You’ll never see me here again, I promise.”

The stranger’s gaze turned sad. “There’s no need for that. It’s perfectly alright, I assure you.”

He approached. The man was much taller the closer he came, so tall that Marianne had to lift her chin just to see him. His face was chiseled and handsome, a strong jaw and cheekbones flattered by his one bright blue eye. He appeared to be studying her face in a similar fashion. Shy, Marianne looked away.

“Can you mount your friend here without a problem?” he asked. “I’d be happy to assist you.”

“Um...”

“Please, don’t let me make you uncomfortable.” His hand still outstretched, the stranger nodded in encouragement. “Perhaps it would make you feel better if you knew my name. I am called Dimitri.” He paused as if wanting to add more, but refrained. “Just Dimitri.”

“Just Dimitri,” Marianne repeated with a small chuckle. 

“Just is my first name.” A joke. Despite Marianne’s softened expression, Dimitri seemed to feel it was in poor taste. “I’m sorry. It isn’t, really.”

“I didn’t think so.” Hesitating, Marianne glanced to his open hand. She supposed there was no harm in formally meeting someone new. Dimitri seemed like a kind person, and if Dorte approved, she could do the same. Marianne took his hand and shook it with care. “It’s nice to meet you, Dimitri.”

“And you as well.” He did not ask her name, and instead gestured to Dorte. “Shall I help you in the saddle? Then I can call for my own horse, and we’ll be on our way.

“That would be good, thank you.”

Dimitri leaned down, forming a step with his hands so Marianne could hoist herself up and over. Once she had mounted, he whistled, and a spotted chestnut mare came galloping from behind him. She was regal, his horse, smaller than Dorte but no less strong. The mare stopped before Dimitri and brushed her nose to his shoulder. He smiled to see her, which Marianne found charming. Dimitri climbed into the saddle with grace and motioned to his left. “The path back to Fhirdiad is this way,” he said. “Follow me.”

Theirs was an unrushed stroll through the forest, which may have, in truth, been more akin to a garden. Their horses enjoyed the slow pace as much as Marianne herself. Rays of the same sunlight she’d admired hours before spilled through the trees, joining her quietly, bringing peace.

“Calm rides are my favorite,” Dimitri admitted beside her. “There’s nothing quite like taking your favorite horse and enjoying a bit of solitude.”

Marianne nodded. “Your mare is beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Lissa.” He leaned down and patted her neck again. Lissa made no outward sign of affection, but Marianne could feel it emanating from her like an aura. “She’s been my horse for two years now. Most men take stallions for their strength and prowess, but I prefer mares. They’re easier to handle and far more affectionate, in my experience, and Lissa has a fairly level temper even on her bad days.” Dimitri turned to Marianne. “What about your Dorte? He must be very important to you, to chase him like you did.”

“Dorte is my dearest friend,” she replied. “He was left behind by a travelling merchant. My adoptive father intended to leave him, but I was able to convince him that we needed a workhorse. Dorte’s working years are mostly over, but he doesn’t cause trouble, so I’m allowed to keep him.”

“Allowed?” posed Dimitri.

“Um...” Marianne’s spirits dampened. “There are many things I’m not allowed. To have Dorte is very special.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She felt Dimitri’s eye on her, observing, perhaps looking to read the story she kept closed. “I hope you’re treated well.”

He must have been aware of her status as a servant. How could he not be? Marianne was dressed in rags that even a commoner would have disposed of years prior. Her braid was a mess and her hands spoke of filth and toil. She tried to hide a smudge of dirt on her knuckle, ashamed to have it seen. “I’m treated as well as I deserve.”

Dimitri stopped his mare. Marianne halted as well, turning her head to him. “You shouldn’t say such things about yourself. Life is difficult and often unfair, but no one deserves to be given cruelty, least of all someone so sweet. I sincerely hope your circumstances improve.”

Marianne cast her eyes to the forest floor, silent for a time. She hadn’t known Dimitri for more than an hour, yet already he had found words she’d desperately needed to hear. Not just anyone could be so insightful. “You... have also known cruelty?”

Dimitri nodded, though his shoulders were tense. “Of a sort.”

“I’m sorry.” Marianne frowned, but there was a comfort in speaking to him now that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe we both deserve tenderness, then.”

Dimitri offered her a little smile. “Perhaps.”

The rich throes of the forest gave way to tumbling hillsides. In the distance were the great stone walls of Fhirdiad, Castle Blaiddyd towering over treetops and the city skyline. “Do you know your way from here?” Dimitri asked.

“Yes.” Marianne was relieved to be able to return home, though she dreaded what her father would say about her absence. Hopefully he’d been too busy writing to bother with thoughts of her. “Thank you, Dimitri. You’ve been wonderful company.”

“Good to hear,” he said. “Honestly, I’m a terrible bore.”

That pulled a chuckle from her. She clutched Dorte’s reins, content to linger just a while longer. “Don’t say that.”

“Even if it’s the truth?”

“But it isn’t. You’ve been just as kind to me as you say I’ve been to you.”

Dimitri grinned. “Tenderness takes practice, it seems.”

She turned back to the distant Fhirdiad. “So it does.”

“I shall practice, then,” he promised, “and tell you of my progress when next we meet. If I could have the honor of knowing your name?”

Marianne bit her lower lip. She wanted to concede, which was dangerous. It wasn’t normal to meet someone for the first time and already feel familiar, as though their mutual understanding had come from somewhere uncharted, yet the map was already drawn. Even so, the obstacle of her father was too threatening to be ignored. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Dimitri seemed suddenly dejected. Marianne ached to see it, but there was nothing she could do to reassure him. “I will not pressure you to give something you don’t wish to,” he said. “But I would very much like to see you again someday.”

His words were sweet. A gentle caress. For a girl like Marianne, such kindness -- tenderness -- was foreign and misplaced. “Maybe I’ll practice tenderness too,” she told him, “and if the Goddess puts me in your path again, we can share what we’ve learned.”

“I eagerly agree.” For a most bizarre instant, Marianne’s heart was clutched by the sight of his returning smile. “Until then, my lady.” He turned Lissa in the opposite direction and trotted back the way they came, disappearing into the trees.

Marianne was uncertain what someone like her could learn about something she’d never deserved. But for the first time in a very long time, she had a reason to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go guys!!! again, please comment if you enjoyed. feedback keeps me going.  
> see you next week! xx


	2. A Lesson in Peaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[awaken; dario marianelli](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnhFuDYlZ5k)]

The training grounds erupted with the clang of blades. Staccato shouts and taunts joined the hymn that only warriors knew, coming to a crescendo as the fight escalated. Dimitri stood vigilant at the center. Two assailants lunged at him from either side with spear and sword alike, and he dodged them both with graceful steps.

This came naturally to him. War, action, the song of his lance gliding through the air. Moving his body kept him focused, away from the shadows of the dead, the wails and cries that weren’t really there. It kept him balanced. 

At least, it would have, if not for the appearance of a girl he’d met by chance.

A dull iron blade slid against the side of Dimitri’s neck. “Dead,” said Felix with a cocky smirk. “I win again.”

“Barely,” shot Sylvain from Dimitri’s left, resting the butt of his spear on the ground, panting. “I was two seconds away from the killing blow.”

“Two seconds too late.” Felix removed his sword from Dimitri and twirled it through the air, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. “You’re slow, Dimitri.”

He couldn’t help it. Dimitri sighed, rubbing his neck where the blade had been, knowing if it were true steel, there would be blood. He faced his friends of many years. Felix, devoted to the sword as ever with his dark hair pulled back for easy fighting, and broad-shouldered, easy-going Sylvain, who had readily let Felix do the work. “I’m just tired today,” Dimitri lied. “No need to worry.”

“Even tired, you could take three of Felix.” Sylvain ran his fingers through his muted red hair. “What’s on your mind? Is it that girl?”

Dimitri’s face warmed. “No.”

“It totally is!” Sylvain began to laugh, grabbing Felix’s shoulder with excitement. “I told you! He’s smitten. Look at his little baby face. The King of Faerghus has finally found his lady love.”

_ “Sylvain,” _ Dimitri warned, but Felix didn’t disagree.

“You’re not yourself.” Felix offered the towel on his shoulder to Sylvain, who wiped his face. “You’re distracted.”

“You too, Felix?” Dimitri returned to the weapons rack on the grounds’ north side, replacing his lance with a heavier spear, though the difference in its weight was hardly noticeable to him. “I’ve been busy with court. I’m not distracted, I swear.” Oh, but he was, and Dimitri knew it well. He’d dreamed of the forest girl twice in the week since their meeting. First, of her innocent giggle and smile, her effortless kindness, riding toward him atop her trusted Dorte. Second, of her battered corpse hanging from an oak tree, blood spilling from her eyes. Dimitri avoided thoughts of the latter. Only someone who affected him deeply could earn both sides of his dream world, and while haunting, it solidified how much she’d made an impression on him.

“Tell us about her again, Your Majesty.” Sylvain moved to sit on a bench near the king. “What was she like? Short? Tall? Curvy? Give us a visual.”

“I should never have told you about her,” groaned Dimitri.

Felix sat beside Sylvain, promptly smacking the back of his husband’s head. “Stop it. He’ll talk about her if he wants to.”

But Dimitri  _ did _ want to. He rubbed his forehead, unable to stop the vision of her from coming to mind. “I wish I’d gotten her name. How am I supposed to find her?”

“You said she was a commoner?” noted Felix. Sylvain slung his arm around his shoulders, exhausted. “Ask around. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“She didn’t know who I was,” Dimitri added, as if Felix had not spoken at all. He turned to his friends. “Do my own people not know me? I know I’ve had periods of time where I can’t bear to be around others, but that’s lessened of late. I visit the markets at the end of every week and make speeches as often as I feel able. Surely they should know my face.” He spoke without conviction; if he had indeed failed the citizens of Fhirdiad, Felix and Sylvain wouldn’t hesitate to say so.

“Nah,” assured Sylvain, “I don’t think it’s you. Maybe she’s foreign.”

“Foreign,” Dimitri repeated. It would make her unawareness of speaking with the King of Faerghus plausible. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The people definitely know you.” Felix shrugged. “That damn tour you went on after your coronation said enough.”

“She could also live under a rock,” suggested Sylvain. “I think the weirdest part of all this is that she managed to get into the king’s private forest. By accident. Maybe we shouldn’t discredit Gustave’s idea that she’s secretly a spy.”

Dimitri sighed once more, his head spinning with a million possibilities. “If I could only ask her all these questions, then I could get some proper sleep. I’m not sure where to go from here.”

Sylvain removed his arm from Felix and rose from the bench, patting Dimitri on the back. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. We’ll help you look for her. I’ll send some people to the markets and have them ask around. A ton of gossip happens there, so if anyone knows her, I’ll report back as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri’s shoulders were tense. “I appreciate it, Sylvain.”

He made eye contact with Felix. Dimitri’s oldest friend could always tell when he was struggling, and was quick to react. Felix stood and clapped Dimitri on the arm before putting his training sword away. “We’re going for a ride. Sylvain’s not invited.”

“Excuse me?” Sylvain retorted, his hands on his hips. “You’re denying your own husband a ride with you? How selfish to keep the king all to yourself.”

“We may be married, but that doesn’t mean I can stand to look at you for too long.” Felix grabbed Dimitri’s wrist and pulled him toward the stables. “Let’s leave before he starts clinging to my leg.”

“But Felix!” laughed Sylvain across the training ground as they walked away. “Where’s my goodbye kiss?”

Leave it to the two of them to make Dimitri smile when his heart was troubled.

The orchards that bordered the southern end of Fraldarius territory were finally bearing fruit. The summer peaches were ripe, and their scent sweetened the air with fragrance. Felix decided it was as good as anywhere to take an afternoon ride. Lissa quite enjoyed the scenery too, stopping to sniff the sugared breeze from time to time. The lands around Fhirdiad were once barren, but with the help of Annette and Professor Hanneman’s research at the School of Magic, they had found a way to make the soil fertile. Orchards like this were not uncommon.

“He’s such a bother,” groaned Felix as he rode beside him.

Dimitri chuckled. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t have married him.” He turned his gaze to the open sky. Wisps of shredded clouds floated above them. Felix had hated Dimitri once upon a time, a darker time, long before he’d regained control over his life. It was nice to be able to spend a day with him again. Joke again. “How is marriage treating you?”

“Fine.” Felix looked away. He never much liked talking about his intimate life, but Dimitri had seen the change in him, a shift from the eternally pessimistic to a cautious optimism. “It’s... good.”

“Good,” said Dimitri, amused.

“Anyway, about this girl.” Felix faced the king again. “If the thought of her is bothering you so much, either let her go or chase her. You can’t afford to be slipping.”

That much was true. Dimitri’s smile dissolved. “I know.”

“You’ve been watching yourself, right? Keeping track of the signs?”

“Yes.” The pang of his endless headache made him wince. Speaking of Dimitri’s condition was once unbearable, but with the healing encouragement of Dedue and Mercedes, he’d learned to allow his friends to support him when he needed it. “All is well, I assure you. I know better than to try to fight it on my own anymore.”

Felix nodded. “Is she making it worse?”

“Who, the forest girl?” scoffed Dimitri. “No. On the contrary, Felix, she gives me hope.” He paused. “I’ve never... mm.”

“Never what?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“I won’t laugh,” said Felix with a scowl. “Say it.”

Dimitri sighed. He wasn’t fond of feeling embarrassed.  _ Be open, _ Mercedes had once told him.  _ How can we help you if you’re closed? _ “I’ve never felt this way about someone before. Not a single person at the Academy turned my head, Felix, regardless of their status. I’ve only met this woman once, and already she has me mystified. I’m not sure what these feelings mean, but it’s...” He frowned. “I suppose it’s nice to feel something normal, even though I’m left begging for more of her.”

Felix took a moment to digest. “Don’t know why I’d laugh,” he said. “It sounds like you really like her. So find her. But stay focused. I told you I’d keep you in check, Dimitri. Don’t lose your head over this girl, and tell someone if things start to get dark again.”

Appreciation, though burdened, shone through Dimitri’s good eye. “I will. Thank you for always looking out for me.”

Felix and Dimitri continued onward, enjoying each other’s presence in silence, riding abreast with no particular destination. The saccharine smell of the orchards was heavenly. Not for the first time, Dimitri wondered what it would be like to pluck a fresh peach straight from the branch and sink his teeth into it. Would it taste as wonderful as it smelled? He had half a mind to try, to pray for a rare occurrence of his missing sense, if only for a second.

He noticed a horse on the hilled horizon. At the base of the largest peach tree in the orchard, a grey stallion whinnied, pawing the dirt with his hoof.

Dimitri kept his gaze fixed on the creature as he reached out and stopped Felix from advancing. His hand gripped Felix’s tunic and his heart raced. “Do you--”

“See that horse?” Felix asked, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah. Will you let go of me?”

“It’s hers.”

“Who’s?”

_ “Hers,” _ said Dimitri again, clutching Lissa’s reins. 

“The girl? You mean--”

Dimitri didn’t wait for Felix’s reply. Anticipation pulsed through him, inspired by the longing in his heart. 

He urged Lissa into motion. Dimitri tore off across the field, Felix’s protests fading on the wind. The thunder of Lissa’s hooves rolled through the clearing, bouncing off the fruit trees, frightening a nearby flock of birds. They batted their black wings over Dimitri’s head. The incoming sounds alerted Dorte, who turned as Dimitri finally slowed at the tree’s base. On the ground was a basket half-full of fresh peaches and a folded ladder on its side. He smirked to see them.

If Dimitri looked up, he knew he would find the mystery girl there, trapped among the branches. She did not call out to him. If she didn’t wish to be seen, he felt no need to force her.

“Hello again,” Dimitri said to Dorte, who whined in desperation. Distressed, no doubt, over the state of his master. “Where is your rider? The beautiful girl with blue hair. Have you seen her nearby?”

Dorte snorted. Dimitri didn’t know what this meant, but before he could play along and respond, the girl in the tree cleared her throat. “Um...”

Dimitri craned his head upward. Sure enough, the charming stranger was standing on a branch, clinging to the center of the tree as though her life depended on it.

“There you are,” he said, feeling weightless from the sight of her. Tendrils of pale blue hair fell down her back and her dress was a shade of pink, a ragged apron tied about her waist. He almost forgot how to breathe.

“Hello.” She shifted a bit. Dimitri suspected she didn’t want to move much for fear of breaking the branch beneath her feet. “I’m, um... I’m sorry to ask this of you, but...”

“You don’t need to ask. Of course I’ll help.” Dimitri dismounted Lissa, petting both her and Dorte before leaning down and gathering the ladder. He propped it up under the tree’s far-reaching limbs and climbed to the tallest rung. The girl was still a few feet from him, but Dimitri couldn’t move any closer. His wide shoulders wouldn’t allow it. “I’m afraid you’ll have to walk to me.”

“But--” The girl looked down, clutching the tree with rejuvenated vigor. “It’s such a long fall. My father will be upset if I hurt myself.”

“You’ll be alright,” soothed Dimitri, trying to offer a warm smile. He reached for her. “Take my hand.”

The girl stared at him. “Now?”

He nodded.

“But -- but what if the branch snaps and I fall? What if it’s already breaking before I reach you?”

“I’m not sure,” Dimitri replied, “but I’ll do whatever I can to prevent that from happening. If you move quickly, it should remain stable long enough.”

She glanced to the orchard floor, then to him again, her hesitant gaze resting on his hand. She was such a worried thing. Dimitri saw himself in her, saw her weigh the uncertain choice of sacrificing fear for safety.

“Trust me,” he encouraged.

That appeared to be enough. The girl took a moment to breathe before darting away from the trunk of the tree, ghosting along the few feet of branch. She grabbed Dimitri’s hand and gasped as he pulled her into his arms.

A profound ache took root, fondness digging deep into his heart. To hold someone so close made Dimitri yearn to keep her there. The girl blinked up at him. Their hands were clasped together, her free one resting on his chest, almost a position for dancing. Her features were lovely. A heart-shaped face complimented a dainty mouth, soft cheekbones and comely grey-brown eyes. He could feel the tips of her hair against his hand at the middle of her back. The ladder creaked under both their weight, but Dimitri cared not. He thought she might feel the drum of his heartbeat under her hand.

“I...” she began, but never finished. They shared gazes for a while longer before their cheeks turned bright red, and Dimitri looked away, trying to rein in his smile.

“Here,” he told her. “Let me help you down.”

Gently, Dimitri aided her down the ladder and placed her feet on solid ground. She remained in his arms perhaps a second too long, as though she was content to stay there. “Thank you, Dimitri,” she said as she pulled away, curling her hair behind her ears in a shy manner. The fact that she remembered his name brought immeasurable joy. “I was beginning to think I would have to jump.”

“Nonsense. But if you had, Dorte would’ve surely caught you.”

She chuckled. The sound, the sight, left him wholly disarmed. “What are you doing here?”

“Clearing my mind and avoiding court,” Dimitri said. “I can only handle so much, some days.”

Marianne seemed surprised. “You must be a powerful noble to have a place in the king’s court.”

Grinning, Dimitri played off his position, not wanting to scare or intimidate her. “I find myself overwhelmed sometimes. It is... difficult.” His smile fell. “I often need time alone in order to sort through my thoughts.”

“I understand.”

Dimitri’s hand twitched, longing to be occupied. “I confess, I didn’t think I would see you again so soon.”

“Neither did I,” she replied. “But I’m glad. It’s nice to see kind people out in the world.”

The idea of her ever knowing unkindness made him grieve. Dimitri wanted to open her up, draw the story from her lips and discover the identity of whoever harmed her, so they might meet a swift end. “I feel the same.” He glanced down to the basket of peaches. “Were you harvesting?”

She nodded. “My father wanted me to pick some and bake a peach cobbler, which means I have to make at least three. And I might juice some or make a wine mixture, or...” She looked to the basket. “Um... are there any peach recipes you like, Dimitri? I could make you something as a thank you for helping me.”

Dimitri yearned more than ever to regain his lost sense, if only to delight her. “It would be wasted on me,” he admitted. “I can’t taste.”

He furrowed his brow. Not many people knew this truth, yet without asking, she’d retrieved it. Dimitri was the one who’d opened, it seemed.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She cast her eyes to the ground.

“Please, don’t be. It isn’t your doing.”

Quiet nestled between them. Dorte and Lissa grazed together nearby, the summer sun reigning up above. The girl’s hair matched the color of the sky. Her skin, the clouds.

She bounced on her heels. “There must be something else I can do. This is the second time you’ve helped me, and the Goddess teaches us to repay charity if we can. I don’t have much to give, but if there’s anything you need, please tell me.”

Need? Dimitri could think of many things. A relief to his ever present headache, a good night’s sleep, for the dead to rest easy and his torment to cease, for a day when true happiness would finally, finally pierce his heart. He looked to the distant hills. The figure of his stepmother on fire shrieked and laughed in a mocking tone. How could Dimitri ever complain when he’d been crowned king?

“Dimitri?” the girl asked gently. When he looked at her, soft brown eyes were swimming with concern. He hoped that he hadn’t spoken to his stepmother without noticing.

“Ah, apologies. I was focused elsewhere.” He redirected with ease, taking a step closer to her. “Listen. There is something that you could do for me.” Dimitri rubbed his neck, awkward but earnest. His drive to know her outweighed all else. “I would very much like to see you again. Tonight. There’s a spot by the river where the fireflies gather this time of year. It would, uh...” He cleared his throat. “It’d be a nice place to talk. If you were so inclined, that is.”

The girl’s face flushed once more, the same shade as a rose. “Um...” She held her cheeks. Dimitri chastised himself for being too forward, but the words had spilled. “I, um... I can’t make any promises. My situation isn’t very flexible. If I can, I will.”

“I shall wait all night.”

A giggle escaped her. “You’re a strange man.”

“So I’ve been told.” Dimitri turned to the horses, summoning them with a click of his tongue. He took Dorte’s reins and offered them to the forest girl. His smile reflected hers. He helped her pack the peaches in Dorte’s saddlebags and held out his hand to help her mount, which she took.

“At sunset?” she asked, looking down at Dimitri from atop her loyal steed.

“That sounds doable. Let’s meet here, beneath this tree.”

She nodded. The two of them held each other’s gazes, unspoken words staying hidden behind closed lips. There would be time tonight, Dimitri supposed.

“Marianne,” she said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“My name is Marianne.” Her expression was both calm and conflicted. “Please, promise you won’t tell anyone you met me, at least not by name. If my adoptive father found out that I was hiding something from him, I...”

Dimitri furrowed his brow. “You what?”

“I don’t know what would happen.”

The reason for her earlier anxieties became clear. Marianne seemed a frightened person by nature, but to also have someone to be afraid of must be terrifying indeed. “I won’t tell a soul your name,” assured Dimitri. “It will be my secret.”

“As you will be mine.” Marianne’s eyes were warm. She gave her horse a rub on the neck. “Take us home, Dorte.”

Marianne rode away, down the beaten path through the orchard trees. Dimitri watched her silhouette fade, dipping over the hill where his stepmother had laughed so viciously, out of sight. He stayed there for a time, wondering about dear Marianne, who she was, what she’d seen, where her journey to Faerghus and into his life had begun. He wanted to know her everything, and share all he’d learned of tenderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but nat fireflies need a hot climate in order to--" SHUT UP IT'S ANIME  
> i weep for them??? idk man, i'm just obsessed with this pairing.  
> please don't be afraid to comment :) all your feedback so far has been adored. thank you so so much for reading!  
> see you next wednesday! xoxo


	3. A Night of Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[on the nature of daylight; max richter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVN1B-tUpgs)]

Marianne collided with the cold tile. Breathless as she lay still, she knew better than to move before he demanded it. Her shoulder throbbed and her cheek stung from a quick-forming bruise, a drip of blood trickling down. “Get up,” barked Margrave Edmund. Marianne did so, careful to step out of his reach.

“Do you know how influential Margrave Gautier is, Marianne?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“You called me ‘father’ in front of a respected nobleman. How do you think your idiocy made me look?” Margrave Edmund’s moss-colored eyes were dark with disdain. He stroked his peppered goatee, his jeweled rings and monocle glinting in the late afternoon light, dimmed by thick curtains. Margrave Gautier had left the estate less than an hour prior after arriving on invitation to discuss a proposal for the king. Her foolish mistake would not go unpunished. “Do not misunderstand me, girl. You are  _ not _ my daughter. You are a disappointment. My worst investment, who I, out of the goodness of my heart, allow to stay here in exchange for minor work.”

Marianne closed her eyes, the little secret of her tears lodged behind them. She would not cry to his face. Not now.

“First you return late from the orchards, and now this.” Margrave Edmund scoffed. “I should sell you to Duchess Cornelia. She has very powerful friends who experiment on creatures like you. For once, your Crest may actually be of value to me, if only for the coin getting rid of you would bring.”

“Please don’t,” Marianne whispered, clutching her hands. Hapi’s accounts alone were enough to make her fear the duchess.

“Then why would you treat me this way? After all I have done for you.”

“I didn’t mean to displease you, fath--” Marianne took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, my lord. I was stuck in a peach tree. And the next time Margrave Gautier comes, I’ll stay in my room and--”

“No.” Margrave Edmund strode forward, snatching her chin in his privileged hand, forcing her to look at him. “You will be the servant that you are and come if I call you. But you will keep your mouth  _ shut, _ child, and return home on time. You are much better off for it.” 

He shoved her away. Marianne caught herself on an accent table, the vases on top clinking together, threatening to fall. “Clean yourself up. I’m retiring for the day. See that you do not disturb me.”

Turning on his heel, Margrave Edmund -- the true one, not the charismatic charmer he showed to the world -- ascended the stairs and slammed his chamber door behind him.

Marianne stayed still, clutching the edge of the table. Panic reared in her chest, unbidden, unstoppable. She looked at herself in the gilded mirror on the wall. Her cheekbone was red and puffy, a small cut from the Margrave’s rings disgracing an already plain face.

Her tears spilled freely and her shoulders shook with sobs. Even so, the sorrow inside her was not the same beast she was familiar with, clawing its way through, making her wish for death. It had morphed into something new. Something different.

Marianne clenched her fists. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Wait a minute. You’re gonna do  _ what? _ ”

Hapi almost dropped the fresh peach in her hands. She’d offered to help Marianne wash, slice and prepare them for her cobblers, but the process stalled when Marianne mentioned her second chance meeting with Dimitri. The sun was hanging low in the sky, still a few hours before sunset, giving her plenty of time to prepare. “I’m going to see him tonight,” Marianne reiterated with a slight frown. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Oh, Sunshine, don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled.” Hapi placed a washed peach beside Marianne on the counter and rinsed another. “Remember last week when I said I wanted us to do something crazy? You’re really goin’ for it. I’m just surprised. Didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked, nudging Marriane with her elbow. “I like your new adventurous side.”

“Adventurous,” added Ignatz, “but also risky.” Marianne’s artisan friend sat atop a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen, dabbing cerulean paint on a canvas with delicacy. His dark blonde hair blended with the color of the wallpaper and his chestnut eyes narrowed in focus. “I don’t mean to sound unsupportive, Marianne. I’m really excited that you’ve found someone. I just worry what your father will say.”

“He, um...” Marianne took a deep breath and released, dropping sliced peaches in a bowl. “He doesn’t know.”

Ignatz stared at her in disbelief, his mouth agape. Hapi snorted with laughter. “Yes!”

“Quiet, Hapi,” shushed Ignatz. “Margrave Edmund can’t know we’re here.” Ignatz placed his paints on a nearby table and came to Marianne’s side. He wasn’t a very tall man, and the two of them stood at near equal height. “What about your safety, Marianne? The Margrave hurt you today. If he finds out that you left against his will, it could be worse next time.”

Marianne didn’t look at him, continuing her work. “I’m not sure it matters. I want to be bold for once, Ignatz. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I want to know tenderness.”

Hapi nodded in approval. “You’ve got my support. This guy of yours sounds nice, even if you won’t tell us his name.”

“He is nice.” Marianne lifted her head to look out the little window where the chickens roamed in their pen, clucking to each other. “And he’s my secret. But he’s noble, I think. I don’t expect anything. I just want to be his friend.”

“Sure.” Hapi shrugged. “Tenderness. Friendship. Whatever.”

“Friends can be tender,” Marianne countered, taking the bowl of peaches and moving to the stove, pouring them into a skillet. “I think so, anyway. The two of you taught me that.” 

There was Marianne’s first revelation on the subject, and one of the most important. 

Her hands stilled. “Do you, um... do you remember that night when you pulled me from the river?”

“That was desperation,” said Ignatz, his tone deflated. “Not tenderness. We were terrified that you were going to die.”

“I... I wanted to.” Marianne set back to her task, squeezing lemon juice into the skillet, shaking sugar from a glass jar into the mix. “I wanted to die. But you saved me and took care of me. Neither of you had to tend the fire so I could warm up, or spoon-feed me soup, or wrap me up in blankets and tell me jokes to make me laugh. But you did anyway.” She turned to them, wringing her hands, uncertain if they viewed their actions as highly as she did. “I, um... I know I’ve struggled. I’ve been a burden over the years.”

“Sunshine,” murmured Hapi.

“I just, um. I just want you both to know how impactful your support has been. That’s all.” Marianne turned back to the peaches, lighting the stove so they would boil. She’d never been so free-spoken without prompting. Maybe she wanted her friends to know how much they meant to her in case Ignatz’s worries, or the Margrave’s threats, became reality.

She heard them approach. Ignatz wrapped an arm around Marianne’s shoulders from the left, Hapi from the right, both embracing her. “We’re here for you, Marianne,” said Ignatz in affirmation. “Be safe tonight, okay?”

“Yeah. And you’re pretty cool, Sunshine,” added Hapi. “I can’t wait to devour some of this cobbler and make a mess doing it.”

The three of them chuckled together, and Marianne smiled, feeling every ounce of their unconditional love.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

The edge of the sun kissed the horizon by the time Marianne gathered her gifts and blankets. She fed Dorte an apple in appreciation, saddling him for the second time. “Thank you for coming with me,” she said as she stroked his mane. “You’ve been so patient. I’m sorry to take you so many places today.”

Dorte huffed and nuzzled her face. He didn’t mind being with her at all, it seemed, and she giggled with affection. “Thank you for understanding.”

Marianne hoisted herself up into the saddle and embarked. Bravery rode with her.

Colors of sunset painted the outer fields of Fhirdiad with splendor, a vision Ignatz had copied many times, shades of orange and fuschia echoing off the grass. Marianne kept Dorte at a slower pace to enjoy what the Goddess presented to her. When just the tip of the sun remained above the mountains, Marianne crested the hill by the orchards, seeing Dimitri’s tall figure pace at the foot of the great tree. He stopped when he noticed her. They waved to one another.

“Hello Dimitri,” greeted Marianne with a smile. Being in his presence made her giddy. She wasn’t one to display her emotions so candidly, but with him, they were hard to conceal.

“I’m happy to see you.” Dimitri seemed just as joyful as she. He was handsome in a patterned blue vest over a cotton tunic, his golden hair down to his shoulders with a fur cloak framing his broadness, as ever. His eyepatch made him even more attractive somehow. He came to Dorte and pet the side of his neck, grinning at her dear friend as though they were dear friends, too. “I’m happy to see you too, Dorte.”

Dorte huffed. “He feels the same,” translated Marianne. “He’s grateful for what you did for me earlier today.”

“Is he?” Dimitri chuckled before stepping back. “Think nothing of it. It was my--” He narrowed his eyes with worry, studying her face. “Marianne, what happened? Are you alright?”

She had almost forgotten. Marianne touched her tender cheek, wincing from the pinch of pain. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine,” she assured with a weak nod. “I slipped while washing the floors.”

“If anyone has hurt you, please tell me.” Dimitri’s tone was filled with conviction. “I will make them stop.”

Marianne frowned. She yearned to be honest, but Margrave Edmund had friends both in and out of the shadows. Friends who could end the life of any noble he so pleased if Dimitri dared stand against him. “Thank you, but I’m alright. I’ll come to you if anything happens. I promise.”

Dimitri was unconvinced, as he should be with Marianne’s poor display. “I won’t pry. But know that I will help you in an instant, always, should you ever ask it of me.”

Marianne kept her lips sealed. If she opened them, she would spill all, and she valued his life far more than that. Dimitri turned to Lissa where she stood behind the tree, pulling himself into the saddle. “Please, follow me. It’s not very far.”

Marianne rode by Dimitri’s side, soaking in the night breeze and the hues of the setting sun. The sky had shifted to a bruise of violets, the promise of stars glittering faintly up above. They passed through the orchards and into a nearby forest. Abundant with plantlife, it was difficult for Marianne to see far ahead, but Dimitri’s confidence in his direction halted any worry. 

The two of them chose to pass the time in amiable conversation, discussing their day, the goings-on throughout Faerghus, horse care and music and their favorite books. It was odd to Marianne, the ease with which she spoke to Dimitri, who she barely knew. His voice was pleasing and his manner, reverent. She didn’t feel the need to run from him.

Before long, Marianne began to hear the gentle rush of water. A tiny clearing unfurled to a riverbank of rocks and flat earth surrounded by forestry, a circle pit of stones for a fire in the center. Clusters of little yellow wildflowers dotted the edges of the bank. A weeping willow draped lazily over the King’s river, rising moonlight and a diamond-studded sky reflecting off the surface. “It’s wonderful,” she murmured in awe.

“Isn’t it?” Dimitri dismounted Lissa and came to Marianne’s side, holding out his arms. She allowed him to help her from the saddle, gasping from the way he lifted her as though she weighed nothing. Her feet touched the ground. The two of them stayed still, his hands at her waist, hers at his chest, staring into the eyes of the other. Anxiety had a place here, but it never came, leaving vacancy for something else. 

Dimitri moved to tie the horses. Marianne followed to retrieve her sack from Dorte’s saddlebag, carrying it gingerly to the makeshift fire pit. She placed it on the rocks nearby and retrieved a wool blanket, laying it across the dirt for comfort. Dimitri gathered the firewood he’d brought with him -- he had come prepared as well, it seemed -- and lit a cozy fire, surrounding it with thick stones. They worked in wordless harmony. When they’d completed their humble labor, Marianne sat down atop the blanket with her bag, hugging her knees. The glow of the flames played in Dimitri’s hair as he filled the space next to her.

“The fireflies will come out as the night progresses,” said Dimitri. “I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

“No, of course not.” Marianne craned her neck to the brightening stars overhead, admiring them. How freeing it was to be here against Margrave Edmund’s wishes. The threat of punishment could barely touch her, for now.

“Oh! Before I forget.” From her saddlebag, Marianne retrieved a warm porcelain dish with a lid, a jar of cream, two forks and a parcel of chopped nuts, which she placed on the blanket between them. “It’s one of the peach cobblers I made. I, um... I know you said you can’t taste, but I thought the smell might still be enjoyable. The whipped cream is cold, too, so the temperature difference could be nice, and the crunch of the walnuts will add even more texture.”

Dimitri’s expression was unreadable. His eye was wide as he stared at the meal before him, and she wondered if he was displeased. Marianne wrung her hands. “I know it may seem like I’m exaggerating,” said Dimitri, his voice thickened, “but this is truly one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me, Marianne.”

Marianne’s shoulders released their tension. “Oh. I’m glad, then. You deserve it.” She opened the lid on the cobbler and leaned down to smell it, crisp sweetness filling her nostrils. “Mm, still fresh. Do you want to try some?”

Dimitri’s gaze was softer than she had ever seen it. “I would love to.”

Taking one of the forks in hand, Marianne served two plates of warm peach cobbler, dabbling whipped cream on both and adding chopped walnuts for Dimitri. She took a bite of hers and hummed in delight. It wasn’t often that she was allowed to eat the things she cooked for Margrave Edmund, but she’d had enough leftover peaches for a spare dessert, and he likely wouldn’t notice. “What do you think?”

“The texture is splendid,” said Dimitri, alight with wonder. “You’re right. The temperature difference adds to the experience, and the nuts stand out enough to make it memorable. I can faintly smell it, too.” He regarded her with compassion. “You are exceptional, Marianne. Thank you. I will return this kindness to you tenfold when next we meet.”

Shy, her cheeks stained pink, she moved a peach slice around her plate with the end of her fork. “You’re welcome.”

The two of them ate in silence, relishing in the presence of one another. Not every meaningful moment required words. Night breezes caressed her face and hair, and rays of moonlight snaked through the trees. The hanging leaves of the weeping willow waved with the grass, with the fur on Dimitri’s cloak and steam from the cobbler dish. Songs of crickets trilled in the woods behind them.

“My father used to bring me here when I was a boy,” said Dimitri at last. “He taught me how to skip rocks in the river.”

Marianne tried to picture a smaller Dimitri in her head, eagerly throwing stones into the water and frowning as they didn’t ricochet like his father’s did. “That sounds like fun. How old were you?”

“Oh, maybe nine.” Dimitri set his empty bowl aside. “He’d bring me out here three times a week to teach me. It wasn’t just about precision, he said, but about controlling my strength. Throw too hard, and the rock will sink.” He looked sheepishly to the river and ran his fingers through his hair. He was beautiful, even if Marianne felt sinful for thinking so. “I inherited his Crest, you see. It makes me stronger than most people. It’s terribly inconvenient at times, and I’m not sure my father’s lessons really helped, but I remember those days with great fondness.”

“It must be nice to get along so well with your father,” said Marianne. “Do you still come here with him?”

Dimitri’s eye grew haunted, torn. “No. He was killed ten years ago, right in front of me.”

Marianne covered her mouth in shame. She didn’t reply at first, watching as anguish clouded his blue stare, yearning to chase it from him. She chastised herself for speaking so carelessly. “I’m so sorry, Dimitri.”

“Mm.” Dimitri closed his eye a moment before facing her, forlorn. “Please, don’t. It is in the past.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt less.”

“No,” he said. “I suppose it doesn’t.” Dimitri cleared his throat. “I’ve learned better ways of dealing with the grief, though. It has taken far too long, and I still have much to learn, but I feel like I’m following the right path. At least, I think I am.”

A glimmer of hope made Marianne straighten her shoulders. If he could overcome such a tragedy, maybe she could overcome hers, too. “I’m proud of you, Dimitri. You deserve peace.”

He grinned a bit. “That is debatable. But thank you.” Dimitri placed his empty bowl into hers, gathering the dishes to return to her saddlebag. “Spending time with people I care for helps a great deal.”

Marianne’s gaze warmed, the flutter in her stomach returning. People he  _ cared _ for... “I feel the same. You help me.”

Dimitri rested his hand on the side of her arm, his thumb brushing the fabric of her sleeve. “As you help me, Marianne.” He placed her saddlebag behind them and focused on her again. “I don’t want to rely on fate or the Goddess to continue bringing us together. I’m not sure how to correspond with you if I can’t know where you live.”

Marianne hummed in thought, hugging her knees once again. “What if we left letters for each other at the base of the peach tree? We could check and reply as often as we’re able to.”

“Letters?” chuckled Dimitri. “You’re brilliant, Marianne. I will cherish your letters, and through them we can plan our next meeting.”

The prospect of writing to him was so blatantly intimate that it excited Marianne, a woman in her mid-twenties with no previous romance to speak of. Would it be like the stories, she wondered, full of enough joy to deliver her from misery? “I’ll tell you all about my day,” she said, “or whatever’s on my mind. I promise I won’t stop writing. No matter what happens.”

“I promise that as well.” Dimitri smiled. “And for the record, your cobbler was extraordinary.”

“Thank you.”

They locked eyes. Dimitri’s gaze was filled with the same longing that awoke within her, unrepressed. He searched her face for something unknown, until his expression suddenly twisted from desire to desperation. Her heart seized. Marianne couldn’t read what he sought in her, but she met his eye regardless, hoping he would find clarity or whatever else he ached for.

“Marianne...”

“Hm?”

Dimitri’s internal struggle was obvious in the way his fist clenched, his brow furrowed. Marianne nearly reached for him, to assure him that whatever he wished to say could be saved for later, but he spoke before she could move. “Can I tell you something?” he asked. “Something I’ve told no one but necessary persons.”

“Of course.” 

“Even if it might lower your opinion of me?”

“I doubt it could do that.” Marianne folded her hands in her lap to give him her full attention. “You’re safe to tell me, as long as it won’t hurt you.”

Dimitri faced the crackling fire. Long minutes passed. His dismal frown moved her. He reminded her of a beaten dog she’d once seen and wept for, left on the streets to die, it’s dark eyes begging for mercy of the fatal kind.

“I suffer,” Dimitri said quietly. “In my mind. I see things that aren’t there. Terrible things. Sometimes they shout at me, torment me, incapacitate me. My nightmares would give demons a fright. I once committed atrocities at the behest of the voices in my head.” Dimitri looked down at his hands, riddled with self-loathing. “I very much want to see more of you, Marianne. But I would understand if learning these things has made me frightening to you.”

“Frightening?” whispered Marianne, sorrow dripping from her words. “Never.”

“That is only because you do not know the extent of it.” Dimitri shook his head. “I always need a healer nearby, at the ready. My rage knows no parallel. I’m a madman. Only because of my station am I privileged enough to receive the care I have, and even then, there are times when it isn’t enough.” His hands began to tremble. “I can’t lie to you and pretend this affliction does not exist. I would not ask you to accept me, broken as I am. Simply say the word and I will turn and walk away.”

Marianne couldn’t bear their distance. The desire to heal was in her nature. Just as she’d leapt from Dorte to aid the dying dog, she crawled to Dimitri’s side without hesitation, placing her hands over his. He looked at her with the same mournfulness the fire had earned. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t mad, that his soul was blessed with good will and light and a kind spirit, but she knew from experience that none of these words would reach him. A different approach might be more effective. A personal one. 

If Dimitri was willing to let her see this side of him, she owed him the same courtesy, if only to show her trust. 

Marianne took an unsteady breath. “I, um...” She looked up at him, her throat tight, summoning her courage to speak. “I often pray for the Goddess to take me to her.”

Dimitri’s eye widened.

“Sometimes I can’t get out of bed because all I want to do is sleep without waking up. My whole existence has brought misfortune to those around me. I don’t like my appearance, I’m worthless and the state of my things is always so dirty. My flaws are endless.” She turned away, unable to look at him while making such vulnerable admissions. “I’ve tried to end my life more than once when the Goddess wouldn’t answer. Even here, in this river. So, um...” She swallowed hard. “You’re not alone. I’ll accept you, Dimitri, so long as you can accept me too. But I know that’s a lot to ask.”

Silence swept through their little clearing. Marianne feared he would lose interest in her, that her callous disregard for her own life was unforgivable and he would seek someone healthier for his own peace of mind. He  _ should. _ But Marianne saw none of these things when she finally looked at him. Dimitri’s gaze was tender, full of a burning heat that made the fire envious. “You’re lovely,” he murmured.

Marianne’s giggle was burdened, but she giggled all the same. He truly was a strange man. Dimitri laced his fingers with hers, the fingertips of his free hand touching her cheek just below the bruise, sending shockwaves down her spine. His forehead came to rest against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed and she placed her other hand on his chest, at peace. They sat still together, hearts racing, saying nothing, the crackle of the fire and their mingled breaths joining the crickets and the gentle rush of the King’s River, just beyond.

A flicker of light caught her eyes when she opened them. Fireflies were illuminating one by one, floating through the air with no destination, dozens dispersing into the night. Dimitri smiled at her and shoved a bit of dirt over the fire to suffocate it. The tiny glows grew even brighter, and he reached for the beaming Marianne, pulling her close. His touch made her feel as though she were one of the very fireflies they’d come to watch. Bright, weightless. With her permission, he hooked his hand under the back of her knees and draped her legs across his lap, and she hugged him from the side, nestling her head against his neck. He held her so tightly that she laughed in her bliss, for nothing could harm her here. 

Dimitri pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Thank you, Marianne,” he told her sweetly. He sighed into her hair. “Thank you.”

Tenderness was not restricted to a simple feeling. It could be peach cobbler beneath the stars on a riverbank, sad confessions and kindred spirits and a featherlight touch on a cheek or chest, laced fingers, long horseback rides and soft conversation. Tenderness could be the way she felt with Dimitri. It could be the way he helped her like herself, one moment at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art piece above was illustrated by the wonderful @[sethkiell](https://twitter.com/sethkiell) on Twitter :') check out their art! They were so nice to work with. I highly recommend commissioning them.  
> This chapter had me screaming when I wrote it, not gonna lie. The "you're lovely" line from Dimitri floors me TO THIS DAY  
> Also, I upped the rating on this fic to E because I'm adding an optional smut chapter at the end. Why? Because I can't stop thinking about these two characters going at it. What can I say. Sweet passionate romance is my jam.  
> Thanks for reading <3 see you guys next week! Thank you so much for all your amazing feedback so far.  
> xoxo


	4. A Declaration of Intent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[lord m; martin phipps](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApKAQNzcUrc)]   
> 

Dimitri awoke with a familiar grogginess that only strong medicine could give. His skull ached as though it had been crushed, but the maelstrom in his mind had calmed enough to regain his senses. He sat up, wincing.

“Shh,” soothed Mercedes at his bedside, pressing her hand to his chest to guide him back down. “Don’t get up yet. Slowly, Dimitri.”

He groaned in submission. Opening his eye, Dimitri observed her sorrowful concern, her kind features overwritten with worry. A fire crackled in the hearth and Dimitri felt the warmth of his fur blankets, knowing he was safe and home. He clenched them in his fists to feel the texture. Dedue stood just behind his wife, carrying a tray of tea, which he placed on the king’s side table. “Thank you.” Dimitri frowned. “That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”

Mercedes turned to the tea, pouring him a cup. Her sapphire earrings dangled as she moved. “You’re okay now. That’s what matters. Can you try sitting up for me, please?”

Dimitri did as he was told, pushing himself into an upright position with care. Splintered wood pieces littered his chamber floor amidst broken porcelain and scattered books. Shame smothered him.

“We don’t have to talk about it yet,” said Mercedes, offering him some chamomile. Dimitri could smell the herbs. He accepted the cup and sipped, leaning back against the pillows as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Appointing her as his personal healer had been one of his better decisions. “We’re worried about you, Dimitri.”

“I know.” He looked down to his tea. “I’m sorry for putting you through this again. I wasn’t angry at you.”

“I could tell.” Mercedes kept her hand where it was, a show of support. “You kept saying, ‘don’t hurt her.’ What were the voices telling you?”

Dimitri could hardly bring himself to vocalize it. The severed head of King Lambert had rolled at his feet, dead lips forming words of hate. His stepmother’s wailing reached an unbearable volume and Glenn, dismembered, demanded Marianne’s blood as payment for their silence. Dimitri’s hands began to tremble. “They wanted to hurt the girl from the forest. They told me she’s in my way from achieving their justice.”

Dedue pulled up a chair beside his wife, taking a seat at Dimitri’s side, the shadow of his colossal form casting across the bed. “I will speak plainly. Do you believe this girl is a danger to you?”

“What? No,” Dimitri asserted. “Believe it or not, I feel better than I have since this all began. She makes me feel worthy.” He closed his eye, sighing. “She said she would accept me the way I am, but how could she possibly know what that means? One incident like this, and she would be right to run away.”

“Let’s not think about that, Dimitri.” Mercedes rubbed his upper arm for comfort. “From what you’ve told us, it sounds like this girl really likes you. But when Dedue suggested that she may be harming you, I don’t think he meant she was doing so on purpose.”

Perhaps Dedue was right, then. Marianne did worsen Dimitri’s symptoms, though not of her own doing. She represented all he could have -- life, peace, a family, true happiness -- and therefore, all he could lose. 

Dedue’s blue eyes grew soft. “I see. You have fallen for her.”

Dimitri ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it obvious?”

“You’re a romantic,” chuckled Mercedes. “You suffer when you’re apart from her. It upsets you, I think. You want the security of having her with you.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” Dimitri kept his eyes downcast. “She suffers too. I believe she is being beaten, but she won’t tell me anything about it. It drives me mad to know that right this very moment, someone foul could be striking her.” His nostrils flared and he forced an exhale. “If I ever learn this monster’s identity, I--”

“Dimitri,” interjected Mercedes. “Drink your tea. I’ll let you and Dedue have a moment alone while I find some of the herbal rub we tried last time. It’ll help you relax.” She rose from the side of his bed and kissed him on the forehead before leaving. Mercedes was a natural mother to all. Such a gentle spirit should not be allowed in his presence.

“I’m ashamed.” Dimitri didn’t look at his trusted friend as Dedue took his wife’s place, sitting by the king’s legs, atop the blankets. “If I need this girl so badly, her life would be an unhappy one if we were to marry. Relying on one person for sanity isn’t fair.”

“You are thinking very far ahead,” said Dedue with a little grin. “Stay in the present. You told me that you planned to exchange letters with her. Have you done so?”

“I have.” Dimitri sipped his drink, glancing to the side table where he’d kept all Marianne’s letters in a neat stack. “It’s her turn to write.”

“If you are feeling well enough, perhaps retrieving her response may lift your spirits.” Dedue turned to the empty space on the wall where a portrait of King Lambert once hung. It had to be removed shortly after Dimitri’s coronation; the face of his father tormented him enough. “You are a very emotional man, Dimitri. Kind, and also loving. You care for people. I suspect this mystery woman of yours is much the same, to get along with you so well.”

“She is,” said Dimitri, unable to hide the longing in his tone. “She is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” He pictured Marianne, her enchanting grey-brown eyes sparkling with compassion, how happy she’d been to see the fireflies that night. Her smile glowed brighter than the moon. “That is why I fear losing her, Dedue. If she were to slip through my fingers, I would be devastated, yet being with her may put her in harm’s way.”

“Ah,” Dedue noted. “You are afraid of losing her forever.”

Dimitri nodded, solemn.

“Well,” said Dedue, standing from the side of the bed. With his massive height, the top of his head nearly hit the edge of the king’s canopy. “I believe you should see if she has written back to you. If not, leave her another letter of your own and make plans to meet. You must tell her the truth of these things if you are to maintain control. The longer they weigh on you, the more crippling your self-doubt will become.”

Dimitri’s smile was latent. “Right as ever, Dedue.” He set his cup of tea on the side table, next to Marianne’s letters, and pulled the warm blankets from his frame. He rose and retrieved his riding boots, leaning one hand against the stone brick wall while he laced them. His eye trailed over the damage he’d caused in his fit of delusion. Frowning, he picked up the remnants of a teacup, a little painted flower chipped away from the whole. 

The door opened and closed behind him. “I brought the mixture,” said Mercedes, but Dimitri did not turn. The porcelain flower in his hand haunted him. Yet another thing of beauty he’d ruined. 

Dedue’s big hand came to rest on Dimitri’s shoulder, and Mercedes took the other. Their touch was soothing. “You’ll be okay, Dimitri,” she assured. “One setback doesn’t destroy all the progress you’ve made over the years.”

“She is right,” added Dedue. “You are the same good man you were yesterday. Do not let yourself suffer needlessly.”

Dimitri turned to his friends, the warmth of their love piercing him where he needed it most. He embraced them, Mercedes at her shoulders, Dedue around his great torso. “Thank you. Both of you. You’re always here when I need help. I don’t take it lightly, I promise.”

“We know.” Mercedes smiled up at him as they parted, taking her husband by the hand. “Why don’t you go with Dimitri to check for the letter, dear? I’ll tend to the garden. Just don’t forget to bring writing supplies so he can reply back to her.”

Dedue looked down at Mercedes with fondness. “That is a wonderful idea.”

“Are you certain?” asked Dimitri. “Please, spend time with your wife, Dedue. You work too much as it is.” 

“It is fine. Your health is our primary concern right now.” Dedue opened Dimitri’s chamber door before he could argue. “Come, before night falls. You’ll need the remaining light if you’re to pen something meaningful.”

Dimitri, unable to protest against his dear friends, relented.

The two men passed through the castle halls, side by side until they reached the stables. Dimitri saddled Lissa while Dedue packed a quill, parchment, a flat wood board and an inkwell. “I am only bringing you with me to ease your mind,” said Dimitri, rolling his stiff shoulders. “I’d be alright on my own.”

“That may be true,” Dedue replied. “Even so, if I leave you alone for an instant, you are like to do something rash. We don't need you soliciting every person in Fhirdiad in frantic search of your forest girl.”

Dimitri scoffed. “I wouldn’t do that,” he muttered under his breath, but Dedue knew him better than most.

The early evening ride refreshed Dimitri’s spirit as only riding could, though the day’s summer heat lingered. He and Dedue stayed quiet while they journeyed on. Once they came upon the orchards, Dimitri dismounted Lissa at the base of the tree he and Marianne had come to adore, sinking to his hands and knees to feel inside the open spot beneath one of its roots. A safe place for letters, they had decided. His fingertips touched paper. Elated, Dimitri yanked the folded envelope from the earth and leaned back against the trunk of the tree, tearing it open, hungry for Marianne’s correspondence.

> _ Dear Dimitri, _
> 
> _ Today I woke with you in my mind. Whenever I’m reminded of our time among the fireflies, I feel so blissful. I’m embarrassed to say that your cloak has replaced my blanket. Is that strange? It makes me feel close to you, even though miles and class and privilege separate us so very far apart. When I sleep against the fur, I’m reminded of what safety feels like, and I suppose that is worth any shame. I feel as though there is part of you in the fabric. _
> 
> _ Hapi, Ignatz and I were able to have a picnic after sunset today. Once my chores were done, we dined just outside the manor and chatted for hours. Fresh warm bread and cheese, grapes, wine, a crisp salad with a seasoned drizzle; few things are better. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to meet my friends. They are wonderful people. They have supported me through so many trials, and I owe them everything. _
> 
> _ I got to witness three baby chicks hatch this morning as well. Dimitri, when I tell you it was magical, I truly mean it in every sense of the word. Their little chirps melt my heart. They are so fluffy! I want to steal them away and snuggle them as I go to sleep, though I fear I would smother them on accident, and nothing would devastate me more. Would you like to suggest names for them? _
> 
> _ Also, please tell your friend Ingrid that I congratulate her on the birth of her pegasus foal. They are such majestic creatures. I would like to ride one someday, if only I were less afraid. _
> 
> _ All my affections go with you. _
> 
> _ Yours,  
>  _ _ Marianne _

The tension in Dimitri’s shoulders released with each word he read.  _ All my affections go with you. _ Marianne must be a saint to treat him with such selfless adoration, and the simplicity of her day made him ache to experience it with her. He looked up to return to Lissa and retrieve what he needed to respond, but Dedue was already offering the utensils to him, looking down with softness. Dimitri took them. “Thank you, my friend.”

“You are welcome.” Dedue sat among the grass, closing his eyes a moment to take in the evening breeze. Twilight complimented his complexion, the deep brown of his skin mixing well with the purple bloom of the sky. He looked peaceful. “What will you say to her?”

“I’m not sure.” Dimitri placed the wood board on his lap and unrolled the parchment, removing the cork from the inkwell. “I suppose I should be honest about what happened today.”

“I agree.” Dedue crossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap. “You say she wants to accept you, so there is no reason to lie.”

After a moment’s silence, a light laugh passed Dedue’s lips. Dimitri raised his brow. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes. You ask for my opinion on these things, but I am not known to be a man who wears his feelings.”

“Dedue,” chuckled Dimitri, “you are far more emotionally aware than you give yourself credit for. I heard that Mercedes wept when you asked her to marry you.”

“Indeed, she did.” Dedue smiled at the memory. Once so expressionless, Mercedes had uplifted him. “You amuse me, is all. It is nice to see you happy. Please, write before the sun fully sets and we are left in the dark. I am not keen on the idea of eating weeds for dinner.”

Dimitri groaned. “That was one time.” He dipped his quill in the ink, pictured what he wanted to say, and began to write.

> _ My dear Marianne, _
> 
> _ Loog, Kyphon and Pan; these are what you should name your precious chicks. I congratulate you on their hatching and wish them all the happiness that young chickens can possess. If they are in your care, I’m certain they will want for nothing. _
> 
> _ I am glad you treasure my cloak so dearly. It brings me unspeakable joy to hear. You are right -- there is a part of me in the fabric, Marianne, and I am with you when you think of me. I hope your dreams have been peaceful as a result. _
> 
> _ Your friends sound endearing. Hapi and Ignatz are interesting names. If they are a constant support for you, then I would like the chance to meet them someday soon. Forgive me if this question appears nonsensical, but is this Ignatz Victor you speak of? If so, please say hello on my behalf. We attended school together. I remember his generous spirit (and his unique name, hence my query). _
> 
> _ I confess that today has not been well for me. I have suffered from my condition. Sometimes the things I do frighten me. I know I remain in the hands of people I trust to guide and comfort me, and still, that does not erase the horrors. You have become such a light in my life. You have affected me in a way unique to your kind soul. You have made me happy, Marianne, and it is unlike anything I have ever known. I dread losing you because of it. This, I believe, is a source of grief for me. I hope it does not alarm you to hear these things, but they must be said. _
> 
> _ I wish to be with you more than anyone, to cherish you with all the devotion you deserve. These letters of ours have only made my heart grow fonder. Please, if you wish it, we must meet soon or else I shall have to search everywhere for a glimpse of you. Admittedly, I would do so without a second thought. _
> 
> _ Forever yours,  
>  _ _ Dimitri _

He read the letter thrice over, embarrassed that he’d spilled his whole heart on the page, but what else was there to do? He folded the parchment neatly and slipped it in their secret spot, hoping she would read it soon.

“Are you ready, Dimitri?” asked Dedue as the two of them stood.

“I believe so.” Dimitri turned to the hill on the horizon, the longing in his voice unhidden. “I was hoping that she might come while I was here, but I suppose I’m not so lucky.”

“She will read your letter before long,” Dedue said. “Patience is necessary.”

Dimitri sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m such a fool for her, Dedue.”

“So it would seem.”

“I want her in my arms.”

“I know.”

“I want to know everything about her.”

Dedue simply shook his head, coming to Dimitri’s side, placing his hand on the center of his back. “I believe what you are experiencing is called love. There is no need to fight such a feeling. I have learned that it is the best one of all.”

Dimitri looked to his dear friend and smiled, seeing tenderness in his eyes, recognizing it as such. He moved away from the tree toward Lissa, who seemed irritated to have her night interrupted. “We should return to the castle, Dedue. Unless you would like me to prepare a fresh pot of weed stew before we go?”

“Please do not,” Dedue asserted, and they laughed.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

The work of a king was neverending. Late into the following afternoon, Dimitri poured over trade proposals and reports on rebuilding efforts from the many regions of Faerghus. Since his recovery began, Dimitri worked tirelessly to meet the needs of the people, from addressing economic concerns to establishing education for all, from overseeing proper irrigation systems to road construction and attending to the impoverished orphanages. His ultimate goal was to implement a system of government that allowed people of all walks of life to participate, be they noble or commoner, but the process was as long as it was arduous. Dimitri faced every obstacle with tenacity. As ever, it led to mountains of documents and never enough time to read through each one.

A knock resounded from the door to his personal study. “Who is it?” Dimitri asked, not lifting his gaze from an envelope as he broke the wax seal. 

“Duchess Cornelia, Your Majesty,” said one of the knights on post.

Dimitri looked up. What was _ she  _ doing here? “Please, let her in.”

The iron door swung open. Duchess Cornelia entered, her heels clicking on the stone brick floor, the beads and gems of her revealing gown tinkling together as she moved. Her expression was mischievous. “Your Majesty,” she said with a deep bow. Dimitri nodded in acknowledgement. “I trust your work is going well?”

“It seems to be,” he replied. In truth, Cornelia unnerved Dimitri. Her sudden change in personality and interests some years past left him suspicious, and despite her good works, he could never stomach her for very long. “What can I help you with, Duchess? If it’s all the same to you, I would like to return to this paperwork as soon as possible.”

“Naturally.” She swept past his desk, trailing her fingertips across the surface of the wood. Her sultry voice filled the room. “I have come on behalf of the rest of the nobility, Your Majesty. We all have similar concerns regarding the, shall we say,  _ progression  _ of the Blaiddyd line.”

“Pardon?”

Cornelia tossed her pale pink curls over her shoulder. “You have no heir, my king. No wife. Some people are beginning to fear you may share a certain... disposition. Like Duke Fraldarius and the Gautier boy.”

“My disposition is my own,” countered Dimitri. “There is nothing to fear from Felix and Sylvain.”

“If you say so. Still, you have ruled Faerghus for over seven years now, and we have no guarantee that your Crest or legacy will continue should your health decline.”

“Should I go mad, you mean.” Dimitri narrowed his eyes. “Speak plainly, Cornelia. Who I take for a wife, and when, are my personal business.”

“Oh, and that’s where you’re wrong.” Cornelia clicked her tongue, sitting on the edge of Dimitri’s desk just in front of him, resting her hand on her exposed thigh. The slit in the side of her dress offered a generous view, and she traced her finger in mindless circles along her skin. Dimitri glared. Her tactics did nothing for him. “Who you take as your queen has a direct effect on the kingdom’s economy. Should you choose well, we could receive a wondrous boost to the treasury and another ally for any impending war. Or perhaps, an end to the conflict in the Sreng region?” She leaned closer. Dimitri leaned back in avoidance. “I have a marriage proposal for their princess. If you don’t marry her, the nobility asks that you choose a bride of wealthy origin before the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth at the end of the month, or else I will send word to Sreng on your behalf.”

Dimitri shot up from his seat so fast that the chair fell to the floor. “You will  _ not, _ ” he asserted.

“Yes, I will.” Cornelia giggled, twirling her hair around her finger. “Or maybe not me. Margrave Gautier is certainly closer, so he could deliver the message just as well.”

Dimitri scowled and clenched his fists. “We don’t need a political pawn for a queen. I will marry when I choose to.”

“Such a romantic,” sighed Cornelia. “But you know it’s in the best interest of the Kingdom, Your Majesty. You know it deep, deep down.”

She wasn’t wrong. An economic surge and an end to the violence in the north would go a long way for the people of Faerghus. Their needs were always first in Dimitri’s heart, hence his earned title as the Savior King. With guidance, he had taken the broken kingdom he’d inherited and made her prosper again. If Dimitri were a normal man, marriage would be a small price to pay for peace, but he could not lay beside a stranger at night and seek her comfort when he woke screaming, nor could he expect her to calm his fractured mind in moments of delusion and weakness. He couldn’t give himself, body and soul, to someone he did not trust.

“Think about it, my king.” Cornelia slipped off the desk and strode in front of Dimitri, giving him a flirtatious wink. “If you don’t want to marry the Sreng girl, there are always options closer to home.”

Dimitri yearned to drag Cornelia away by her precious hair and toss her from the palace gates. Instead, he worked his jaw, keeping his glare focused. “That would defeat the purpose of making an heir,” he replied. “You’re past your prime.”

Cornelia burst into laughter, a shrill sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. “Oh, Your Majesty. You are so very like your father.” She patted him on the arm and turned to leave. “The nobility shall await your reply to our request soon, I hope. We shouldn’t leave Sreng waiting.”

She closed the iron door behind her. Dimitri took a deep breath and released, and then another. One more for good measure. He returned his chair to an upright position and continued his work, Cornelia’s words rattling in his mind.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Look at this, Felix.” 

Dimitri shoved the parchment into the hands of his best friend and paced his study. In dire need of guidance, Dimitri had summoned Felix at the end of his grueling day of deskwork. 

Felix scanned his eyes over the proposal, standing by the hearth. “Marriage?” he asked. “To the princess of Sreng?”

“That’s not all.” Dimitri opened the formal black box at his desk where all official documents needing his attention were kept. A stack of ten letters sat within. “All of these are marriage proposals as well. There’s even one from Baron Dominic regarding Annette. She’s been engaged to Ashe for two years, Felix. Two!”

“They only care about stamping their family name on the royal line. They’re vultures.” Felix tore the parchment in half and tossed it in the bin of wastepaper beside Dimitri’s desk. “And Cornelia wanting to be queen? Don’t make me puke.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Dimitri continued to pace, the night air from the open window doing little to calm his nerves. “I can’t ignore this either, as much as I’d like to. The nobility want me to marry. They have for years, but to go to such drastic measures now of all times means they must truly be at their wit’s end.”

“Or Cornelia’s the source of it.” Felix shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past her to ring these bells for no other reason than to watch you dance.”

Dimitri let out a groan. He sat himself on an ottoman by the window, head in his hands. “My father once told me that being king means making hard decisions.”

“I don’t see what’s so hard about this one.” Felix put his hands on his hips, standing in the center of the room. “There’s only one option. You marry this forest girl.”

“I don’t know if she would accept,” said Dimitri. “She would have every right not to.”

“Stop it. Think.”

Dimitri looked up to his friend, exhausted. “About what, Felix?”

“How you’re going to make this girl your wife.” Felix folded his arms over his chest, likely irritated that they were having this conversation at all. “Look. If you’re really as happy as you say she makes you, that’s enough reason to ask. She’s miserable where she is, right? You’re no better.” His edges slowly softened. “I heard what happened yesterday.”

Dimitri cast his eye to the lush golden rug beneath his feet. A birthday gift from Claude, two years past. Dimitri would never understand how he had made so many friends despite his affliction. “The thought of her being hurt by someone makes it worse.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Felix closed their distance and sat beside Dimitri, resting his elbows on his thighs. “It’s simple. You get some peace of mind, she’s freed from her situation, the nobility shuts up for a while, and Cornelia slithers back to wherever the hell she came from.”

Felix always had an abrupt way of saying things. Dimitri lifted his head, grinning a bit. “An unconventional marriage,” he said. “Just like yours. The nobility must love us.”

“I could care less.”

The two of them looked to each other and chuckled. 

“Maybe you’re right, Felix. I don’t want to frighten or overwhelm her, but...”

“There’s no way to stop that. You’re the king. She’ll be floored no matter how you tell her.”

“But what’s the  _ right _ way?” Dimitri rubbed his face. “How do I ask the most important question of my life to the most wonderful person in the world?”

“How disgustingly romantic.” Felix paused to think, the silence doing nothing for either of them, until he raised his brow. “Why not do what your father did and throw a ball?”

Dimitri blinked. He knew the story, how King Lambert had hosted a ball of unparalleled size and scale to announce his engagement to Dimitri’s birth mother. Surely Marianne deserved no less than she. He scratched his chin, thinking not of if, but when. A ball to occupy the nobility and invigorate the people. To see her again. He would reveal himself to Marianne as he truly was, the King of Faerghus, and ask for her hand in marriage. Or at the very least, offer to elevate her from her position and move her to the palace, to a place where she could thrive and no longer fear the fist of any man. They would be able to see each other without restriction. “Maybe,” Dimitri murmured.

Excitement replaced his aggravation. Dimitri rose from the ottoman and made for the door in haste.

“Where are you going?” Felix called after him, but Dimitri was already gone, rushing down the hall to find the nearest scribe. When he found one still hard at work in the library, he drafted a formal proclamation then and there, and sent it to every corner of the land.

> _ I, King Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, declare on this day, the ninth day of the Blue Sea Moon, that there shall be a royal ball. At this event, I will surrender my heart to the woman I love and ask for her hand in marriage. All citizens, be they noble or common, are invited to attend. The ball will be held at dusk in the ballroom of Castle Blaiddyd on the twenty-eighth of this month. If my love accepts, I will bestow upon her the crown of the Queen of Faerghus. May the Goddess watch over you all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weed stew


	5. A Statement of Worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[my edward and i; dario marianelli](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGlRnFbuVOg)]   
> 

The markets of Fhirdiad were bustling with morning merchants and overzealous customers. Smells of freshly baked bread and smoked boar wafted through the air, the shouts of salesmen and clanks of rickety handcarts sprinkling above the chatter. Marianne and Hapi were only two among the masses, skittering through the crowds to purchase their goods before the true rush bolstered the market’s numbers. Sunday mornings were as much of a boon as they were a nightmare.

The fishmongers in particular were enjoying an exceptional bounty. Flaunting their greatest catches and prices in preparation for Saint Cethleann Day, they attracted buyers from every corner of Fhirdiad, some so aggressive that they shoved past Marianne and Hapi in order to reach the lines. Marianne had to cover her mouth each time she passed a fisherman’s booth so she wouldn’t gag.

“The smell isn’t too bad,” chuckled Hapi from her side. “Or is it the guts that does it?”

Marianne shook her head, breathing slowly in and out before clutching her basket again. “I like fish, but when they’re displayed with their insides out like that, I get a little queasy.”

“Yeah. At least fish are stupid and probably don’t feel anything.” Hapi picked up a red apple from a local farmer’s stall and examined it half-heartedly. She faced the vendor. “Good enough. I’ll take ten, farmboy.” When Hapi was given a sack of apples in exchange for Cornelia’s coin, she offered the one in her hand to Marianne. “Eat this, Sunshine. It’ll make you feel better.”

Marianne was almost certain that nausea couldn’t be cured by an apple. She accepted it nonetheless, grateful to be thought of.

Shopping for Duchess Cornelia and Margrave Edmund was a relatively simple task. The two nobles were common in their scrupulousness, providing lists and explicit details on the exact things they desired. Of course this left little room for error, but Hapi and Marianne had perfected the art of navigating the Fhirdiad markets over the years. If there was ever a question as to what one of them was supposed to look for, the other would chime in with an idea, pairing their minds like crime solvers in order to catch the suspect.

“Iggy!” called Hapi from across the cobbled aisle. She ran forward, away from Marianne to stop at the painter’s unsolicited booth. Marianne followed with a little smile. Poor Ignatz. His paintings were so lovely. She never knew why he had such trouble selling them.

“Hi guys,” said a defeated Ignatz from his stool behind the table. A few of his floral and oceanic works were laid out atop the surface, brilliant compositions of color and style. “Another failed morning.”

“Don’t say that.” Marianne pointed to a painting of hyacinths in a field of green. “This one’s my favorite.”

“It’s about confidence, Iggy.” Hapi puffed out her chest, hoping he would mimic her. “You always sit here and don’t say anything. See all these merchants shouting at people to come check out their stuff? You gotta do more of that. No one’s gonna stop to look if you don’t hook ‘em first.” With her hands, she mimed reeling in a fishing line. 

“Like Saint Cethleann,” chuckled Marianne. “Come on, Ignatz. You can find the holiday spirit, can’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Ignatz looked hopelessly to his unsold paintings. “I don’t know if I have it in me to raise my voice at people.”

“Then hire someone to do it for you,” said Hapi. “Like me.” She promptly dropped her sack of apples by Ignatz’s stall, cupped her hands around her mouth, and took a breath. “Come one, come all! Genuine really neat paintings for sale over here! Ignatz Victor is one of a kind! Help him stay away from his crusty old parents who want him to be a loser knight!”

“Hapi!” Ignatz shouted, mortified as he leapt from his stool. Marianne giggled as the two of them argued over Hapi’s blunt choice of words. A few heads turned to glare at them in annoyance, but otherwise did not come near.

“Come on, Hapi,” said Marianne, tugging at her friend’s sleeve. “We need to be gone before midday.”

“I know, I know. I’m behind you.” The two girls hugged Ignatz and wished him luck before departing. “I should write a script next time.”

When they finished with their weekly hauls, Hapi and Marianne returned to the market entrance near Fhirdiad’s city gates, where Dorte and Hapi’s horse awaited them in the stables. “Iggy’s way too nervous to speak up,” Hapi complained as she dumped her purchases into her saddlebags, plucking a piece of hay from her skirt. “That’s why he got sent off to that rich kid school. He needs high-up people to buy his art and get his name out.” She elbowed Marianne in the side. “Maybe your mystery boyfriend can do it.”

“My--” Marianne’s cheeks turned rosy pink, but she didn’t deny it. “I told him about you and Ignatz in my last letter. He’s said before that he comes to the markets sometimes, so maybe I’ll tell him where Ignatz sets up his stall.” 

Thinking about Dimitri made Marianne’s heart race. It had been weeks since she’d seen him, and her soul yearned for the soothing familiarity of his voice, for his strong arms around her, his kiss upon the crown of her head. Sleeping with his fur cloak snuggled tight only worsened the sting of his absence.

“That’d be cool,” said Hapi. “We wanna meet this guy sometime soon, you know. Gotta make sure you’re in good hands.” She shrugged. “Oh, hey. Maybe we can all catch the festival together.”

Marianne paused. “The festival for Saint Cethleann Day?” 

“No, the other festival.” Hapi rolled her eyes. “Of course for Cethleann.” 

Marianne could picture the four of them together, Dimitri and her two best friends, eating cooked fish on sticks and singing hymns into the night. The sole obstacle was Margrave Edmund; he would notice her being gone for so long. Marianne had only gotten away with attending the previous year’s festival by leaving well into the night, having missed over half the fun by the time she arrived.

Before Marianne could respond to Hapi, the town crier took up his place on the platform in the center of the market, ringing his golden bell to call for attention. Shoppers halted their browsing and flocked to him.

“Ooh,” said Hapi. “Gossip. Let’s go see.” She took Marianne’s hand and dragged her along, finding a space at the edge of the hoard of citizens who came to listen to the king’s words. Excited whispers rolled through the crowds. Marianne stayed close to her friend, scanning the sea of heads for Dimitri’s, but he wasn’t there.

The crier unrolled his scroll. “Hear ye! Note, our noble king has two announcements on this fine day. Firstly, it shall be declared that in two weeks’ time, every nobleman or wealthy patron employing the services of servants or peasantry must allow said workers twelve silver pieces in salary per week. Should these workers be treated poorly, reports of foul conduct may be given to the knight’s tower for investigation and subsequent punishment.”

Payment? Punishment? Marianne and Hapi looked to each other while the market-goers raised their volume, both of them thinking the same thing: their lords would  _ never _ bend to such a law.

The crier rang his bell to encourage the people’s silence. “Ahem! Secondly, it has been decided that on the 28th day of this moon, there shall be a royal ball. Our king intends to ask for the hand of our future queen, in marriage. Noblemen and commoners alike are invited to attend.”

The gasps of the people drowned out the crier’s remaining words. Livened plans and questions surrounding the identity of the king’s love created a buzz that would not die for weeks. Marianne cared little about the doings of nobles, but if Dimitri were to attend such a ball...

“I could see him.” Marianne turned to Hapi, her eyes alight. “Hapi, this could be my chance. If I see him at the ball, maybe I can finally find the courage to tell him who I really am.”

“You’ll tell him everything?” said Hapi, raising a brow. “Even, you know. The beastie?”

Marianne’s Crest was a sore reminder of all she’d lost, all that had left her with nothing. Still, Dimitri’s promise to accept her had come from his heart. He’d called her lovely. “I... I think he might want me anyway, Hapi. I, um. I trust him.”

“Wow, Sunshine. That’s big for you.”

Marianne beamed. Love had changed her, perhaps, filling her with hope where there was once unbearable self-loathing. If someone as wonderful as Dimitri could cherish her, then there was no reason why she couldn’t work on loving herself as well. Her affections for him were worth facing anything for.

Marianne waved goodbye to Hapi as they parted ways, halfway down the gravel path to Margrave Edmund’s estate. The afternoon heat was growing steadily and she had no desire to remain under the sun as it continued. She returned Dorte to the stables and gathered her market findings in her basket, lugging it through the gilded front door, sighing when she came to rest against the foyer wall.

Mahogany trunks were stacked neatly atop one another in the entryway. Marianne cocked her head to the side, studying them. The Margrave’s name was etched in gold writing along their edges.

“Ah, Marianne.” Margrave Edmund emerged from the sitting room to her left. His monocle framed his right eye and he regarded her with indifference. “It’s about time you returned. I’d like tea and lunch.”

“Oh. Yes, fath -- I mean, my lord.” Marianne took her basket and scurried into the kitchens to fulfill the Margrave’s request.

Egg sandwiches, crisp cranberry salad and spiced bread was the afternoon meal Margrave Edmund had listed the night before. Marianne wasted no time preparing everything, setting a kettle to boil and dipping fresh lemon tea bags among the steaming water. Once everything was arranged to perfection, she carried his silver platter into the small sitting room, placing it on the long oak table by the hearth. Margrave Edmund sat on his plush velvet sofa with one leg over the other. He reached over and took his tea. He did not thank her.

“Um...” Marianne wrung her hands. The afternoon light complimented the pale blue walls, the filigree on the moulding, enough to distract her for a moment. “Are you going somewhere, my lord? I saw your luggage.”

The Margrave nodded. “I will be visiting Margrave Gautier for the coming week. Do see that this place remains spotless while I’m away.”

“O-Of course.” 

Margrave Edmund,  _ gone? _ The possibility of Marianne spending Saint Cethleann Day with Dimitri became quite real in the span of seconds. She could see him again. A whole night free of her burdens, just the two of them and her friends, together.

“Any news from the capital?” asked Margrave Edmund, appearing more interested in his food than Marianne. “I’ve heard the king has been restless. Usually that precedes some sort of progressive, silly idea of his.”

Marianne folded her hands in front of her. Her ears thrummed with the beat of her heart, the change in topic shifting her focus. “The town crier gave two announcements today,” she said carefully.

“And?”

“The first was, um... a mandate to pay servants and peasants working in noble households. Starting at the end of the month, each member of the nobility who employs a servant has to pay them twelve silver pieces weekly.”

Margrave Edmund laughed outright. “He’ll have us all rebelling against him in no time if he keeps this up. He’ll be dead like his father.” The Margrave stirred sugar into his tea before tearing into a slice of bread. “Anything else?”

Marianne was too frightened to push for her salary when the next topic was far more dangerous. She took a slow breath. “The king is hosting a ball, my lord. He plans to announce his engagement to the future queen. Nobles and commoners are invited.”

“A ball, hm?” Margrave Edmund looked up at her with curiosity, his monocle glinting in the sun from the window. “Interesting. This must be about that girl no one seems to know about. Poor move on the king’s part to pursue her instead of a woman of wealth and status, but I suppose I could attend the ball for the political advantages.” He took a drink. “At least he picked a woman.”

Marianne was too preoccupied in her mind to register much of what he’d said. Bolstering herself with courage, she squared her shoulders. “I would like to go too. If, um, if you’ll permit me.”

The Margrave raised his brow, his tone flat. “Would you?”

She took a step forward and met his hardened, mossy eyes. “If I were to meet someone there, like a nobleman maybe, I could... I could marry him like you planned when you adopted me. You could finally get rid of me, just like you’ve always wanted.”

The Margrave chuckled. Bitterness dripped from the sound. “Who would want you, Marianne? You’re an orphan from a foreign country with a cursed Crest. As soon as this figurative nobleman discovered the truth of your blood alone, he would want to return you to me in an instant, and he’d be right to do so.”

“But there must be someone,” Marianne insisted, thoughts of Dimitri’s promise fueling her onward. “Someone who could accept me as I am. Someone kind and gentle, who wouldn’t care about my Crest.”

“Have you been reading storybooks again, girl? This man of yours doesn’t exist.” The Margrave returned his tea to the table, leaning forward. “It would reflect poorly on me if I were to give you away. A merchant who peddles pig shit is quick to lose his reputation.”

Struck, Marianne lowered her head.

Margrave Edmund rose from the couch. “Are you hiding something from me?” Marianne shrank back against the wall as he came to her, fixing her eyes on the floor so he wouldn’t read her unintentional honesty. He seized her chin and forced her to face him. “Look at me. Did you meet someone, Marianne?”

She could not turn away. Marianne knew that he would read her no matter what, but she tried to wear neutrality anyway, convinced she could protect Dimitri if she tried. “No.”

Margrave Edmund narrowed his eyes, looking off to the distance for a moment. His grip on her chin was tight and Marianne squirmed in hopes that he would let go.

“Let me make something perfectly clear to you.” He pointed his finger in her face, glaring down at her with stern authority. “You shall not go to the ball, nor will you marry any nobleman,  _ ever. _ Not just because you’re unworthy, but because your Crest would curse his family line. You don’t want to bring harm to this man, do you?”

Marianne opened her mouth to speak, but words wouldn’t form.

“Come now, Marianne. Don’t be selfish.” He pushed her chin to the side as he let go. “Your blood is undesirable, child. Why do you think your parents abandoned you? Marrying any member of the nobility would damn their entire line to ruin. Look at your family history. It is simply the way of things.”

Outside the manor, a horse-drawn carriage pulled up to the cobblestone entrance by the door. Margrave Edmund straightened his vest and gathered his coat from the back of the couch.

Sorrow reared inside Marianne, more beast-like than any Crest. “And what of the twelve silver, my lord?”

Margrave Edmund paused. The slowness with which he faced her snatched the remaining light from her eyes. Marianne was so very tired of submission.

He approached her, inches apart. Marianne winced and cringed back against the wall, fearing his fist or the back of his hand, but neither came. His expression was filled with hypocritical kindness. “Why would I pay you?” he asked, reaching out to hold her upper arms. “You’re no servant. You’re my daughter.”

The Margrave leaned down and kissed her forehead. He let go of her and strode from the room, leaving Marianne alone with her shame. She remained trembling and rooted still while the footman gathered his luggage, and stayed there long after the carriage rode away.

_ You don’t want to bring harm to this man, do you?  _ Regardless of whether Dimitri accepted her or her Crest, the nature of it remained the same. Her blood would bring ill luck to his noble family line. Happiness may find them for a while, just as it had once found her mother and father, but eventually all would crumble, like every crippled family who bore the Crest of the Beast before her. 

Marianne broke into sobs. She stumbled forward and curled up on the lush couch where Margrave Edmund had been, bringing her knees to her chest. She wept for long hours until exhaustion took hold, and fell asleep with the single prayer that she wouldn’t wake to see the dawn.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Firewood popped and crackled in the hearth. Crickets sang beyond the open window and a soft breeze brushed her hair from her forehead. Marianne opened her eyes. She’d been moved into one of the spare rooms, laying atop a massive bed that could fit six of her, meant for wealthy guests. She was comforted by the fur of Dimitri’s cloak. Someone had draped it over her. Marianne snuggled it close, nestling deeper beneath it, watching the firelight reflect off a palette of paints on the chaise.

“You’re awake,” said Ignatz from the doorway. He carried two cups of tea in his hands, setting one on the bedside table for her. “You were out for a while. Did you sleep well?”

Marianne groaned. She wanted to roll over and ignore him, falling back into the blissful darkness she’d emerged from, but she would not treat her friend with such rudeness. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” Ignatz sat beside her on the bed. He sipped his tea, searching for words. “Well, that’s not true. I think I know who you’ve been seeing. But we can talk about that in a minute. Are you alright, Marianne?”

_ A merchant who peddles pig shit is quick to lose his reputation. _ Marianne’s grief returned, which made her hate herself all the more. Margrave Edmund did not deserve the triumph of her tears. “Why is he so cruel?”

Ignatz frowned. “What did he say this time?”

“He called me ‘pig shit.’ He found out I’ve been seeing someone and forbid me from doing so anymore. My Crest makes me undesirable, he said, and no nobleman should ever want me. It would be unethical to try.” Marianne pushed herself upright, holding her knees to her chest, the cloak falling down her shoulders. “He’s right.”

“No, Marianne. He’s  _ wrong. _ ” Ignatz reached out and placed his hand atop her knee. “Please don’t let Margrave Edmund make you believe these things. And especially don’t let him decide what Dimitri does or doesn’t want.”

Marianne’s eyes widened. She stared at him. “How do you know his name?”

“Oh, right.” Ignatz chuckled. “I pieced it together on my own. The way you described your mystery friend made him sound like someone I went to the Officer’s Academy with. This only proves it.” Ignatz pointed to the black-and-grey fur of Dimitri’s cloak, the rich blue fabric with a silver knight expertly stitched in. “That was a graduation present for him from Duke Fraldarius. The previous one, I mean.”

“Oh.” The Officer’s Academy. Dimitri must be important indeed to be able to attend there. Once, before Margrave Edmund had learned the nature of her Crest, he’d intended for Marianne to go to Garreg Mach as well. “So you know him?”

“Sort of. We were in different houses, so we didn’t talk much.” Ignatz shook his head. “That’s beside the point. I may not know him very well, but Dimitri is a really good person. If he loves you, he’ll accept you no matter what.” He removed his hand from her knee. “And your Crest doesn’t bring bad luck.”

“It took my parents from me,” she reminded him.

“No, Marianne. People took your parents from you.” 

“You don’t know that.”

Ignatz sighed and turned to his half-finished canvas of Castle Blaiddyd, propped up on an easel facing the window. Marianne gathered Dimitri’s cloak and bundled up beneath it again, laying down, tucking the fur just beneath her nose.

“You’re writing letters to him, aren’t you?” asked Ignatz. “Would it help you cheer up if I went to see if he’s written back?”

“Um...” Marianne looked up at him. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would. You deserve to be happy.” Ignatz placed his teacup on the table and smoothed Marianne’s bangs from her forehead to comfort her. “Just tell me where to look.”

Marianne gave Ignatz a detailed description of where to find Dimitri’s letter beneath the root of their peach tree. She fell back asleep while he was gone, snoozing with Dimitri’s cloak, warmed by thoughts of him that kept her strong.

Ignatz returned an hour later with a letter in his hand and Hapi in tow. “Hey Sunshine,” said her pink-haired friend, crawling up on the bed and laying beside Marianne, who shamelessly snuggled up beside her.

And Marianne wept. She couldn’t withhold her misery, her appreciation and love for the friends who so selflessly sacrificed their time to ensure she would make it through the night. Ignatz rubbed her back and Hapi wrapped her arm around her shoulders. Marianne felt inadequate, a heinous burden that even the most gentle of people should shrug off, but her tears were a result of wringing those feelings dry. Each wail, each sob, squeezed the sorrow until it was no more, and she lay tired in Hapi’s arms, buried beneath the cloak, sniffling.

“Do you want me to tell you who he is in the nobility, Marianne?” asked Ignatz when she’d calmed. “It might surprise you.”

Marianne pushed herself into a sitting position. Hapi did the same, and the two sat shoulder to shoulder. “No thank you. He must be keeping it a secret for a reason. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“Oof,” said Hapi. “When Iggy told me his name, even I figured it out pretty quick. You really don’t pay attention.” She reached over to Ignatz’s lap and took the folded letter. “Go on, Sunshine. Read up.”

Marianne eagerly opened the parchment, hungry for Dimitri’s words.

Loog, Kyphon and Pan. Silly names for chickens. She giggled when Dimitri mentioned that there was, in fact, a part of him in the fabric of his cloak --  _ I am with you when you think of me.  _ She held it closer.

“He wants to meet you,” Marianne said to Hapi as she read on.

Hapi snorted. “Fat chance of that.”

“Oh! And Ignatz, look. Dimitri says he remembers you from Garreg Mach.” Marianne excitedly showed Ignatz the letter and pointed to the line referencing him. “Generous, he calls you.”

“Wow,” gasped Ignatz. “That’s... really nice, actually.”

But as Marianne continued to read, Dimitri spoke of horrors and the confines of his mind, the yearning in his heart made evident. He praised her and expressed his love without ever using the word. Marianne broke into a sad smile and scrambled from the bed, leaving his cloak behind, grabbing a piece of letter paper from the desk and a quill with an inkwell. She took a seat and wrote a hasty reply.

> _ Dearest Dimitri, _
> 
> _ I am deeply saddened to hear of your struggles. My heart weeps for you. I wish I could be by your side to help you through these waking nightmares you experience. Now more than ever, I want to be in your arms, the same way you held me by the river. I know it would comfort you as much as it would comfort me. _
> 
> _ My day has also been dark. I have doubted myself in every possible way and succumbed to despair. I know it isn’t fair to place all my happiness on your shoulders, but reading your letter and your sweet words have turned my terrible night into one of joy. In other words, you make me happy too.  _
> 
> _ Please, Dimitri, don’t fear losing me. As your heart has grown fonder over our time exchanging letters, so too has mine. If you can find it in yourself to continue accepting me for my flaws and seeking my company, I will always give it, and return your acceptance tenfold. I know I am safe in your hands. _
> 
> _ The 12th of this month marks Saint Cethleann Day. I would like to spend it with you, if we can. There is a fishing village called Eisg near Conand Tower that throws a most wonderful festival in her honor. If we could meet at our special tree after midday, we would make it to Eisg by sunset and be able to enjoy a much-needed night together. If you like, Ignatz and Hapi can join us as well, for a while. _
> 
> _ I miss you. Wherever you go, you carry me in your heart. _
> 
> _ With love,  
>  _ _ Marianne _

Love indeed.

Marianne sealed her letter and handed it to Ignatz for delivery. He once again rode out into the night on her behalf while she snuggled in bed with Dimitri’s fluffy cloak, her head on Hapi’s shoulder as they spoke of everything and nothing. When Ignatz returned, he climbed up onto the bed on Hapi’s other side, and the three of them talked and laughed and joked together until they fell fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the read guys <3 i'm gonna shamelessly plug my [twitter](https://twitter.com/moffnat), which i made solely for fire emblem content because tumblr is dead sldgkjaslg  
> love y'all!!! next wednesday's chapter will rot ur teeth with sweetness and i'm not sorry about it


	6. A Festival for Cethleann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[flaming red hair; howard shore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9entmKfe0gs)]   
> 

“This is ridiculous, Sylvain.”

Dimitri rubbed his forehead. He and Sylvain were standing before the wooden wardrobe in his chambers, the latter holding up two separate vests for comparison. One a deep blue with silver stitching, the other a muted crimson. “Why’s it ridiculous?” Sylvain retorted. “You gotta look amazing on your first date, Dimitri. It’ll make her fall head over heels in love with you.”

Felix snorted from his perch on the other side of the room, his legs draped over the arm of Dimitri’s favorite chair. “You don’t even know this girl, Sylvain. What if she doesn’t care?”

“She’ll definitely care.” Sylvain tossed the vests atop Dimitri’s bed and slung his arm around the king’s shoulders, pointing to his face. “Look at this guy. He’s gorgeous. Put some good clothes on him and the mystery girl will be  _ begging _ for him to--”

“I don’t think you’re going about this the right way, Sylvain.” Mercedes, who had also decided that now was a good time to embarrass Dimitri, snatched the vests from his bed and returned them to the wardrobe. “She doesn’t know that he’s the king, right? We need to go for something simpler.”

Dimitri looked to Felix, pleading for assistance. Felix just smirked.

“Don’t you all have jobs to do?” asked Dimitri, his hands on his hips, face burning. “How is it that each of you has free time right now?”

“It’s a holiday,” Felix replied. “Believe me, I wish we were somewhere else.”

Sylvain pulled a few colored tunics from a wall shelf, considering them. “I’m starting to think neither of you are taking this conversation seriously. This could be Dimitri’s first opportunity to sleep with a girl. We would be failing our noble ruler if we didn’t send him in prepared.”

Dimitri’s cheeks grew even hotter.

“Don’t say that, Sylvain,” scolded Mercedes, her skirt waving as she walked. “They’re going to have a lovely time at the festival. If you add too much pressure, you’ll make him nervous.” She grabbed the tunics from Sylvain’s hands and shoved them back where he’d found them. “Dark colors will make Dimitri look smaller. Hard to do, I know, but not impossible. We need something that will show off his impressive shoulder structure.” She plucked a plain white tunic from the wardrobe instead, along with a pair of simple brown breeches and leather boots. “He has to appear like a commoner, too, so I think these will do nicely.”

Mercedes crossed the room and handed the items to Dimitri before either he or Sylvain could protest, giggling at his exasperation. “Come on, Dimitri. Won’t you model for us?”

“I’d rather not,” he said. “But I’m not being given a choice, am I?”

Mercedes guided Dimitri to the arched golden screen in the corner of the room, a wedding gift to his birth mother from the King of Almyra many years past. It contrasted the harsher interior of Castle Blaiddyd, which was more dark timber and cobblestone, fur rugs and woodsmoke from hearthfires. “Don’t take too long, okay? It’s nearly four o’clock. You don’t want to be late.”

Dimitri sighed. He felt like a child being told what to do, but in his heart, he knew his friends acted out of care for his happiness. He relented and moved behind the screen. When Mercedes left him, he changed into the clothes she’d picked out, lacing his breeches and dusting off the old boots. He tied the strings on the tunic and huffed. “I’m not sure I enjoy being your mannequin, Sylvain.”

Better to be done with it. Dimitri stepped out from behind the screen, holding out his arms before letting them fall against his sides. “Do I look presentable enough?”

“Oh, Dimitri,” said Mercedes with an excited clap. “You look so handsome. Might I suggest, though...” She came forward and motioned to the bottom ends of his tunic. “Tuck this in, but not all the way. Pull it out just enough to let the fabric hang a bit.”

“Good one, Mercie.” Sylvain leaned against the back of Felix’s chair, toying with his husband’s collar. “It’ll make his glutes really stand out.”

Felix smacked him on the arm.

Obeying Mercedes’ direction, Dimitri tucked in his tunic halfway, seeking approval as he looked down at her. Out of his three uninvited friends in the room, hers was the opinion he trusted most. Her approach was gentler. “Better?”

“Much. And open the V of your tunic, too.” She pointed to the strings. “Exposing just that little bit of skin around your collarbone and the top of your chest will make her very happy.”

Dimitri’s chuckle reflected how nervous that made him. Combined with what Sylvain had said about sleeping with a girl, Dimitri’s mind wandered to what Marianne would look like laying naked atop the furs of his bed, her beautiful hair splayed out around her like a halo, her smile as radiant as the moon when she’d ask if he would lay with her, and--

His blush made a furious return. Though a gentleman and a king, he was still a man. Dimitri pulled the ties on his tunic as Mercedes suggested and let out a long sigh. “Thank you, Mercedes. I’d like to get going if it’s all the same to you.”

“Hey, hang on,” Sylvain protested. “What about Felix? Doesn’t he get a say?”

“I don’t want a say,” groaned Felix, sitting upright. “Let him leave so we can go train.”

“Come on. Don’t be a sourpuss.” Sylvain, unable to accept no for an answer, took his husband’s hand and yanked him from the chair, holding a grumbling Felix by the shoulders and presenting him to Dimitri. Sylvain pressed a kiss to Felix’s cheek for encouragement. “Just take a look. It’s your duty as his right hand man, you know.”

“Is  _ not. _ ” But despite his scowl, Felix scanned Dimitri from head to toe. “Huh. I guess there’s one thing.”

“Why, Felix,” huffed Dimitri.

“Stop complaining.” Felix pointed to his blonde hair. “Tie that up.”

“What? My hair?”

“Yes. Like I do when we spar.”

Dimitri blinked in disbelief. Felix pulled the string from his own dark head of hair, letting it fall over his shoulders, and offered it to him. Dimitri gave in and accepted. He reached back and tied his golden locks as best he could, having never done it before, and a few stray pieces fell in his face. “How’s that?”

“Good enough,” said Felix. He turned and took Sylvain by the hand. “We’re leaving now.”

“Fine,” Sylvain relented, allowing Felix to drag him out the door and around the corner, out of sight. “Just make sure to tell us how it goes, Dimitri! And don’t forget to stimulate her cl--”

_ “Sylvain!” _

Dimitri heard one man smack the other, followed by laughter and a round of rushed footsteps. “They still act like children after all this time,” said Dimitri with a shake of his head. “Well. Sylvain does.”

Mercedes giggled. “He keeps Felix young, I think.” She turned to Dimitri and touched his arm in support. “You really look amazing, Dimitri. I hope you have a wonderful time. I’ll keep Dedue nice and occupied so he doesn’t hunt you down. We can’t have him interrupting your night.”

“That would be preferable,” said Dimitri with a small frown. In truth, he was terrified to see Marianne again. Would she still look at him with the same fondness in her eyes after reading of his setback? Perhaps he’d misunderstood the intent behind her letters, or she’d changed her mind on the nature of her feelings. Two weeks was a long time to be apart from each other. Dimitri cleared his throat to chase away his distress. “Thank you for your help, Mercedes. I’ll return before dawn.” He kissed her on the cheek and made for the stables in haste.

Dimitri had spent the first few hours of Saint Cethleann Day at the grand cathedral, partially because it was required of him as king, but mostly for the sake of Marianne. He prayed for her safety, for Cethleann to watch over her health and happiness forevermore. Dimitri had wasted so many years begging the Goddess for relief from his own darkness, for a sign that the divine was real in any capacity, but those concerns were now behind him. The Goddess had shown Herself in Marianne’s grace. All that remained was for Marianne to deny the impossibility of loving him too.

Lissa seemed just as anxious as her rider, snorting and protesting the whole way to the orchard. “I know,” Dimitri explained. “I’m terrible at keeping calm when it comes to her. I’m sorry, girl. I’ll feel better soon.” His mare, connected as they were, reacted often to Dimitri’s emotions. The summer heat beating down from above did little to soothe either of them. Once they arrived at the peach tree, Dimitri dismounted and led Lissa beneath the shade of the long branches, where he sat to wait.

What would Marianne’s friends be like? Hapi seemed quite the character from the way she’d been described. Dimitri knew Ignatz briefly from their time at the Officer’s Academy, but they had never become well acquainted. And then there was Marianne herself, the woman Dimitri had pined for these past weeks, swooning like a maid just from a glimpse of her handwriting. Her beauty alone could bring him to his knees. Dimitri only hoped he would have the patience to wait and ask for her hand at the ball, rather than spilling the question at the festival without meaning to.

“What do you think, Lissa?” asked Dimitri while the mare grazed, out of need for someone to talk to. “Do you think Marianne will agree to marry me despite everything? Can I dare to hope?”

Lissa looked at him, blinked, then continued eating as if he had not spoken. She was not a conversationalist like Dorte, that was sure.

Horse hooves sounded in the distance. Dimitri stood. Over the hill, Marianne rode toward him atop her loyal stallion, and when she arrived at the tree, Dimitri came to her before either of them said a word. Marianne reached for him. Dimitri took her by the waist, lifting her delicate form from the saddle and placing her softly on the ground. 

Dimitri didn’t move. Neither did she. Hearts thundering in their chests, the two of them held each other, studying their appearances. Marianne’s lovely hair was tied up in an elaborate bun. Her dress was brand new, stitched with plaid green fabric and white trim, and a crocheted shawl settled about her shoulders. Her gaze sparkled with joy. How he ached to keep her in his arms for eternity, to see her bliss, to feel his anxiety ebb away under her hands.

“Your hair,” they both said at the same time, bringing laughter.

Marianne reached up and brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. Her cheeks were as pink as her lips, and it made him feel confident, knowing a wonder such as her could somehow find him attractive. “I like your hair tied back,” she mused. “And your tunic is so simple.”

“My friend picked it for me,” said Dimitri. “She said I needed to appear more, uh...”

“Common?”

“I don’t want to stand out.” It was risky enough, betting that the people of Eisg hadn’t traveled to Fhirdiad in recent years to be able to recognize him. He brushed his thumbs along Marianne’s sides, his hands still resting at her small waist. “I don’t think I could stand out when I’m next to you, though. You’re enchanting, Marianne.”

Her blush deepened. “I don’t know...” Marianne’s eyes lingered on his exposed collarbone; Mercedes had been right after all. “It’s only a new dress.”

“Your humility makes you all the more endearing.”

They shared a smile. Marianne wrapped her arms around Dimitri’s neck in a warm embrace, and he held her close, leaning down to shrink the distance between them until there was none. “I missed you, Dimitri.”

“And I missed you.” He held her in his arms for a long while, bringing peace. Dimitri pressed a kiss to her head when he pulled away. “We will have to catch up on our way to Eisg.” He looked around, noticing the absence of two others. “Weren’t your friends going to join us?”

“They rode ahead,” said Marianne. “They, um... they wanted to give us some time alone, I think. It’s a two hour ride to the village.”

He kissed her hands. “Then I shall have to thank them. Here, let me help you onto Dorte.”

She nodded. The two mounted their horses and rode off, side by side.

Conversation with Marianne was effortless. Once they had opened to each other, unlocking themselves that night among the fireflies, it was as though the barriers once separating them had never existed. Dimitri basked in her presence. Marianne’s shy and timid nature captivated him, and aside from her undeniable charm, she was intelligent. She knew politics and literature and arithmetic, even etiquette, educated like a true nobleman’s daughter. And while none of these things were a requirement to be the love of Dimitri’s life, it made their discussions surprising and spontaneous whenever she’d throw an unexpected truth his way.

Dimitri wasn’t sure how he could enjoy the festival itself more than the ride there, but the closer they came to the village of Eisg, music began to travel on the evening wind, growing louder.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Marianne.

She nodded. “It’s the festival. They play music late into the night.”

“I haven’t heard anything so lively in years,” chuckled Dimitri. “Not since the coronation.”

“Oh. That must have been exciting to see.” She took a deep breath of fresh forest air and released. “This festival is mostly for commoners, though. I don’t think it’ll be like anything you’ve seen before.”

“I certainly hope not.” 

Trickling through the trees, Dimitri could see lanterns and sunset against the purple sky. Impatient, he grinned at Marianne before urging Lissa into a trot, breaking through the treeline ahead.

The village of Eisg spread out among rolling verdant plains, just shy of the shores of the sea. Dozens of hut-houses bordered the forest’s edge and the center of town was littered with merchants selling their wares. Shops and booths for clothing, jewelry, children’s toys, literature and plenty of fish for the masses lined the main path. Smoke from seafood grills made grey wisps in the air. A band of flutists, violinists and drummers danced with their boisterous audience. Around him, children laughed and chased each other up and down the hills, through the beaten dirt streets, weaving in and out of adults who did not scold them.

Awestruck, Dimitri laughed too.

“Do you like it?” asked Marianne, coming to his side. Her voice was hopeful. “I, um... I thought maybe you could use some time away from all your official duties. Being a noble must be strenuous.”

“Strenuous?” Dimitri turned to her, beaming. “At times. But you have shown me something I sorely missed.” He motioned to the scene around them. “Faerghus, Marianne. The true heart of her.” 

“I’m glad,” she said with a giggle. “Seeing you this happy makes the trip worth it.”

Dimitri dismounted Lissa. He came to Marianne, helping her off of Dorte, and planted a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I cannot wait to share tonight with you.”

Once their horses had been attended to, Dimitri offered his arm to Marianne, who took it without hesitation. She guided him through the first row of merchant stalls to see what treasures they could find. They met an antiques enthusiast with handmade trinkets of jade and crystal, a woodcarver presenting oceanic sculptures, and a gremory selling love droughts which were notorious for their false effects. The mage recommended to Dimitri a bottle of red liquid that would “enhance his performance.” Blushing like mad, he guided Marianne away before she was embarrassed in the same manner.

“Oh,” cooed Marianne once they approached the booth of a jeweler. Dimitri watched her brown eyes fixate on a chain necklace with copper wiring around a large, celestial-looking stone. It wasn’t the most expensive necklace on display by far -- emerald and ruby and sapphire pieces sat among the group, but Marianne had picked the one she admired most. 

Dimitri retrieved the coin purse he’d brought with him from his pocket. “How much, sir?”

“Twenty silver,” replied the jeweler with a cocky puff of his chest. “That's a quaint little one, though. Moonstone is more fit for common girls. Surely you want to spoil your lady friend by getting something nicer, hm? A blue sapphire to match her hair?”

“No,” Marianne said, looking up at Dimitri with gratitude and affection. “This one’s beautiful.”

“Then it suits you perfectly.” Dimitri brushed her cheek before handing the money to the jeweler. Once paid for, Dimitri took the necklace from Marianne’s hands and unclasped it. “Turn around. I’ll put it on for you.”

Marianne bit her lower lip before facing the open sea. Dimitri lowered the chain about her slender neck and hooked it secure. Her skin was so soft under his fingers, delicate, just like the rest of her. “Uh... there,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let me see.”

Marianne turned to him. The necklace was fitting for her, shimmering in the light of the setting sun, but she was far more entrancing than any jewel. How could she ever dislike her appearance? Long lashes framed innocent grey-brown eyes, and not a single one of her features was unflattering. Dimitri could not help but stare. She didn’t look away. The heat in their shared gaze could light a spark.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” said a woman’s voice from behind him.

Marianne jumped. “Hapi!” she exclaimed, peering around Dimitri’s massive frame. “U-Um, I’m glad you could... um...”

Dimitri chuckled. Feeling the need to recover for her, he slid his arm around Marianne’s waist and turned to the newcomer. 

Hapi was a girl of average height, her skin the color of Dedue’s with bright pink hair that fell in a mess about her shoulders. She smirked at the sight of them. “Wow, Sunshine. That’s a big man you got there. Looks almost like royalty.”

“Hapi,” groaned another voice, this one familiar. Ignatz Victor had changed since his sheepish Academy days, broader and more pronounced. Confident, perhaps. Dimitri waved to him. Ignatz, after much resistance, waved back. “Uh, hey Your -- I mean... Dimitri?”

“Dimitri,” he asserted. Clearly Ignatz and Hapi knew what Marianne did not, but if they intended to divulge Dimitri’s secret, they would have done so by now. He kept his smile pleasant. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Hapi. And Ignatz, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” Ignatz replied. “Hapi’s right. You’ve gotten much taller since Garreg Mach.”

“I suppose I have, though that was over six years ago. In many ways, I was still a boy back then.”

Marianne giggled. The sound made Dimitri look to her with admiration. He’d once thought it impossible to think so highly of a person, until she’d unceremoniously wandered into his life. 

“Come on,” said Ignatz. “Let’s eat some fried fish and listen to the band play. They’re much better this year than they were before.”

“I’ll say,” added Hapi. “The flute player can actually hold a tune.”

True to Hapi’s word, this year’s lead flutist was exceptional. She was a teenager, not yet fully grown, and word had it that she was the daughter of one of the sailors who’d slaved day and night to catch enough seafood for the festival. Dimitri and Ignatz ordered halibut that had been spiced, fried and spiced again, served on a stick, which Dimitri had never seen before. He marveled at the meal’s crunch and heat, and though he could not taste the spices, they packed a punch all the same. Ignatz was brought to tears and needed a quick cup of milk to aid his flaming tongue. Marianne had chosen shrimp pieces instead, and Hapi shamelessly ate three servings of tuna rolls. 

And then there was the ale. Dark, like soil. It flowed more freely in Eisg than in Fhirdiad, and as the night went on, not a single soul was entirely sober. Even Marianne had been coaxed into drinking by a mischievous Hapi. While she’d only accepted one mug, it was enough to make her face redden and her giggles come more frequently, which Dimitri drank in with more enthusiasm than any alcohol he accepted.

The four of them found a spot to sit near the musicians, on a blanket under the stars. The way the people of Eisg danced was foreign to Dimitri, who’d been taught the dances of kings and nobles since he was a child. It wasn’t long before a drunken Ignatz was pulled to his feet by a pretty stranger. Dimitri laughed as he was passed from person to gleeful person, so uncomfortable but enjoying every moment, his anxieties and inhibitions freed if only for the night. Hapi hollered and applauded from Dimitri’s side. Marianne had taken a position nearby but out of earshot, accosted by a small group of children eager to put flowers in her sky blue hair. Taken out from the bun, it cascaded down to her low back. Dimitri was transfixed until Hapi cleared her throat at his side. 

“So,” said the pink-haired girl, resting back on her hands and crossing her ankles. The festival showed no signs of stopping, even as the twilight faded into night. The two of them were alone. “You and Sunshine, huh?”

“Sunshine,” Dimitri replied, tearing his eye away from Marianne to look at Hapi. “I like that nickname for her.”

“I have nicknames for everybody I like.” Hapi looked at him sidelong for a moment, then turned back to the dancers. “You’re Didi.”

Dimitri smiled. “I can live with that. When I was a boy, my friends called me Dima.”

“Wow,” said Hapi. “I’m not gonna lie. That sounds kinda stupid.”

Dimitri laughed louder than he meant to.

Hapi leaned over, taking a fried potato from the bowl at her side and popping it in her mouth. Crumbs fell down the front of her brown dress, but she didn’t seem to mind. “You know, Cornelia always makes you seem like such a stuffy baby. But you’re actually pretty cool.”

“Cornelia? As in the Duchess?” Dimitri faced her fully then, his eye wide. “Do you work for her, Hapi?”

“Kinda. I’m more like her guinea pig. Or, I was.” Hapi shrugged. “She’s the worst.”

“I share that sentiment.” Dimitri frowned, his attention focused on Hapi, on what she could tell him. Cornelia’s threat had been in the back of his mind since she’d made it. Where her obsession with his marriage and bloodline had come from, Dimitri still didn’t know. “Has she been acting... suspicious, lately? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“When is she not suspicious? That lady’s always up to something weird.” Hapi snuck another potato into her mouth. “If you’re looking for information, all I know is that she’s up with Margrave Gautier until next week. Didn’t say why before she took off.”

“Gautier,” muttered Dimitri. He remembered what Cornelia had said about the Sreng proposal, and scowled. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

“No idea. Sorry, Didi.” Hapi looked over at him. “You’re a good guy though. You’ll figure it out. You’re the only one who can stop her, being king and all.” She cleared her throat and, gracelessly, chugged all the ale in her flagon until it was empty. The display was so impressive that it turned heads. “Woo!” she cheered. “Nice one.” 

Dimitri grinned at her gusto.

“Oh, and two things.” Hapi set the mug beside her. “One, you should stay the night at the inn here with Sunshine. No way you’re gonna make it back to Fhirdiad in the dark. It’s not safe. And two --”

Before she could finish, Hapi let out such a monstrous, voluminous belch that she startled everyone within a ten foot radius. Dimitri was so taken off guard that he couldn’t help but laugh alongside her.

“And two,” Hapi continued, “if you hurt my Sunshine, I’ll walk straight into the middle of your fancy castle and sigh.”

“Uh,” said Dimitri. “Sigh?”

“Be nice and you won’t have to worry about it.” She patted him on the shoulder. Without giving Dimitri a chance to reply, Hapi stumbled to her feet and entered the fray of dancers, snatching a surprised Ignatz by the hand, leading him into step. Dimitri simply watched them for a time. Not just Hapi and Ignatz, but every happy couple and child and festival-goer who danced with such effortless rapture. These were his people. His citizens, the ones who had called him Savior. Seeing them make merry in each other’s company, free of war and hardship, brought consolation to Dimitri’s broken spirit.

Perhaps he hadn’t failed them as badly as he once believed.

Dimitri knew he could not call the festival a success until he shared a dance with Marianne. Emboldened by ale, he stood and approached where she sat among the little children, a crown of white flowers adorning her head. She looked up at him with eyes of moonlight. “Hello,” she said with a wave.

“Hello.” Dimitri gestured to her audience. “You seem to be fitting in well.”

“I’m not sure how.” Marianne curled a strand of her pale hair around her finger as a few of her tiny admirers did the same. “I always got along better with animals rather than people.”

“Pretty hair!” said one of the children to Dimitri, a red-haired boy with a missing tooth. “It’s blue.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dimitri crouched to their level, a wide grin spreading across his face. Children delighted him. “You don’t see many people with blue hair in Faerghus.”

“I wasn’t born here,” Marianne explained to them. “I’m from the Leicester Alliance. It’s the country right next to us.”

“Ooh,” said three of the children in unison, a set of triplets not much older than seven, if Dimitri had to guess. Marianne seemed a bit shy around the little ones, but the kindness in her tone told Dimitri that she wasn’t uncomfortable. Unused to such attention, perhaps.

Dimitri rose and offered his hand, looking down at Marianne with all the warmth he could muster. “I’m sorry to take you away from your new friends, but the festival would be a waste if I didn’t have the honor of dancing with you.”

The children around her gasped. Some of them made  _ oo’s _ and  _ ah’s, _ and Dimitri had never believed himself capable of feeling embarrassed by anyone a fraction of his age, yet here he was.

Marianne’s expression was dazzled and full of wonder when she took his hand, rising to her feet. “I’m not very good at it,” she warned.

“Neither am I. We’ll figure it out as we go along.”

Both of them proved to be liars. Dimitri and Marianne made an exceptional pair, graceful and full of poise. The steps themselves took time to master, but before long they were dancing among the people with laughter on their lips and joy in their hearts. He spun and lifted her to the beat of the drum, and she twirled in all her innocent glory. 

Dimitri was not a king here. In the village of Eisg, Marianne was queen with her crown of flowers, and he, her humble servant. 

As the night went on, the band halted their tunes to take a much-needed meal break. Field games broke out in the open plains and hymns honoring Saint Cethleann fell from dozens of drunken mouths. Dimitri craned his neck to look up at the stars. Hapi was right; it was far too dark to return to Fhirdiad at this hour, and if they left any later, he’d be too exhausted to stay in the saddle. 

A night in an inn with Marianne would cause quite the uproar if anyone at court were to hear of it. What a shame that Dimitri did not care.

“Marianne,” said Dimitri, rubbing the back of his neck. The two of them stood by the inn’s entrance, hand in hand. “I, uh... well...”

“Yes, Dimitri?”

He sighed, motioning to the inn’s front door. “I was thinking that we should stay here for the night. It would be irresponsible of me to try to lead you back to Fhirdiad in the dark, when it’s dangerous. Unless you have to return urgently, that is...”

Marianne’s face turned so red that he would have felt ashamed, had he not seen her attempt at a hidden smile. “Um... n-no, it’s alright. My adoptive fa -- my lord is out of town until next week. I can, um, stay... with you.” She looked up at him, submissive and sweet-tempered. Dimitri could hear Sylvain’s urging in the back of his mind, mingling with his own stubborn desires, and he shoved them away, not allowing them their due.

“Oh,” said Marianne. “One moment, though.” Dimitri watched as she rushed across the dirt-ridden street to the stables, and minutes later, she returned with his old fur cloak, the intense shade of blue standing out in the night.

Dimitri grinned as she held the bundled fabric tight against her. “If you like it so much, it’s yours. Or perhaps I’ll have one made for you.”

“I like yours,” said Marianne. “It’s very big. I’m never cold when I sleep with it, and I thought it might chase a bit of the chill away tonight, too.”

He held out his hand to her. “Don’t worry, Marianne. I will keep you warm.”

Dimitri led Marianne into the inn, a three-story building that faced the starlit harbor. The interior sported a rustic charm with a great hearth, tables and chairs and a community bulletin board. The innkeep was washing a wood plate behind the front counter. An elderly man well into his years, he recognized Dimitri on the spot, and gasped as he dropped the dish. “Y-Your M--”

“One room, please,” Dimitri asserted before his cover was blown. He placed more than enough silver on the counter to buy a bed and the man’s silence. “Just for the night.”

The innkeep looked from Dimitri to the confused Marianne, then back again. The urging plea for discretion in the king’s eye seemed to reach him. “Y-Yes, sir,” he stuttered. “I shall give you the finest room, sir. The finest, sir! Have a good night, sir.”

Marianne cocked her head to the side “What was--”

“Nothing,” Dimitri said as he ushered her up the stairs, the key to their room in hand. “I think he remembered me from my travels, that’s all.”

Thank the Goddess she did not question further.

Dimitri stepped into their room first, which was deceptively larger than it appeared on the outside. A great four-poster bed covered in fur blankets and feather pillows was placed against the north wall, and a single cushioned chair sat beside a crackling hearth, spare piles of firewood and a metal poker stacked to its left. A door made of glass led out to a little balcony overlooking the quiet bay. It was far more modest and cozy than Dimitri’s own chambers in Castle Blaiddyd, which still, after so many years, did not feel like his.

“Um...” Marianne seemed nervous. Dimitri faced her, resting his hand at the center of her back. “There’s, um... only one bed.”

Dimitri cleared his throat, encouraging himself to stay focused despite the flutter inside him. “I won’t compromise you, Marianne. You are far too important to me.”

Her shoulders somewhat eased. “Thank you. I, um... don’t think I’m ready for that...”

The two of them, awkward as they were, blushed for perhaps the hundredth time.

“Here. Come with me.” Dimitri draped his old cloak over the back of the chair, where she placed her crown of flowers, and he took Marianne’s hand, leading her to the balcony to distract her from anxious thoughts. The lights of Eisg were still aglow with festivities and the smell of saltwater filled the air. Recited scripture of St. Cethleann’s deeds could be heard downwind, read aloud to circles of sleepy children.

Marianne’s hand was warm in his. Dimitri looked down at her, observing her restlessness as she pulled at her sleeve. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Oh, um...” Her shyness was as adorable as it was telling. “Just that...” She curled her hair behind her ear. “I was just thinking that I want to be close to you.”

The thudding in Dimitri’s heart took on a new, powerful beat. She was ethereal in the moonlight. He could deny her nothing.

Without saying a word, Dimitri moved behind Marianne, wrapping his strong arms around her smaller frame to pull her close. He rested his chin at an angle atop her head. She leaned back against him and her muscles relaxed, breathing deeply, and he allowed himself to close his eye and breathe with her. He felt as though he was in a dream. Floating with Marianne high above the world, out of reach from darkness or politics or the horrors of their minds. Together, with her, he was invincible. 

“How are you?” Marianne asked after a time, hooking her fingers over the edge of his palm. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. A comforting motion. “Um... how are the voices, I mean?”

“Mm.” Dimitri leaned down and kissed the side of her head. “They are whispers tonight, Marianne. Just whispers.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

He chuckled. “Yes. A very good thing.” He kissed her again.

Marianne nuzzled her forehead against the side of his cheek. He kissed her once more, his blood warmed by her affection. “Your last letter worried me,” she admitted.

Dimitri sighed into her hair, grounding himself in her presence. “It was not a good day for me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t help but wince. The memory of his father’s mangled, severed head babbling hatred toward Marianne was still too fresh. She turned in his arms. Dimitri realized his hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Dimitri frowned. “It’s just... if I tell you, I fear you’ll be so frightened that you won’t wish to see me again.” Crushed by his sins, Dimitri removed his hands from Marianne and looked down at them, his pale, blood-stained palms, deceptively clean. “I could never ask you to love me like this.”

Marianne’s gentle hands took his into her own. Their softness was enough to calm him. “Love isn’t something you should ask for,” she said. “It’s something given to you.”

Dimitri had to smile. “So it is.” He cupped her cheeks, smoothing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Marianne’s eyes shone with adoration he did not deserve. “And what about you, Marianne? You have also struggled. What happened?”

Doubt flickered across her features. She looked down, her fists clenched at her sides. “I... I feel worthless,” she admitted. “I don’t know if it’s right to feel for you the way I do. If you knew the truth about me, you’d realize that I’m no good and--”

“Stop.” Dimitri’s voice was quiet, contrasting the pain her words inflicted. “Marianne, please. There is nothing you could say or do to make me change my mind. You are a savior to me.”

His words did not soothe her. Marianne’s voice cracked under the weight of her sorrow. “I’m a peasant, Dimitri. An orphan. I have no parents, no true home, no escape from this -- this  _ thing _ inside me. I wouldn’t blame you for not giving your heart to me. It would be safer not to.”

Dimitri shook his head, his truth made evident. “But I already have.”

Marianne smiled sadly up at him. She was more of a saint to Dimitri than Cethleann would ever be. A lifetime of longing clouded his gaze, and he slid one hand around the base of her spine, the other cradling her neck. He leaned down to press his forehead to hers as peace nestled between them. Their breaths hitched. Marianne circled the tip of his nose with hers, and Dimitri grinned, tracing the base of her skull with his thumb. He could feel her heartbeat. 

“Come with me to the ball,” said Dimitri in a low tone, just for her. “I will tell you everything you wish to know. Who I am, the things I’ve done, all of it. I will be open to you.”

Marianne hummed in agreement. “I’ll go with you,” she told him, “and I’ll tell you everything too. No more secrets.”

The corner of Dimitri’s mouth quirked upward. He held her flush against him, chuckling at himself, at his own near nauseating anxiety despite their admissions of love. He could not wait any longer. “May I, uh... may I kiss you, Marianne?”

Her quivering sigh made his pulse pound in his ears. Marianne kept their foreheads together, moving her hands to rest on his chest, her fingertips at the point of the V on his tunic, trailing his skin. “You may.”

Dimitri steeled himself. He held Marianne tighter and pressed his mouth to hers.

Their kiss was warm and slow, like fresh honey. Their lips moved and brushed together, intoxicating, exhilarating. Light, at first. Dimitri supported Marianne’s neck as she kept it craned to meet his height, his arm wrapped tight around her back. His heart grew so large that he feared his rib cage would burst. Little kisses melted into longer ones. Heavy, needy. Her benevolence roused him as no one had before, and he swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, begging the Goddess for one small taste of her. Marianne shivered and obliged. Their tongues met and Dimitri felt a surge of desire shoot from their mouths to his groin. Marianne must have felt the same, for her arms slid around his neck to bring herself closer. Her whimper encouraged him, and Dimitri encased her in his arms, leaving no space between them, their bodies as close as could be. The railing creaked from their combined weight leaning against the wood.

Breathless and craving all he was permitted to have, he gently hooked his thumb beneath her chin and turned her head to the side, pressing endless kisses to her cheek. Marianne deserved every inch of devotion he was capable of giving; she deserved to be cherished beyond recall. Dimitri kissed until he reached her jawline, exhaling against her skin, planting his lips to the side of her sweet-smelling neck.

Marianne  _ moaned. _

The sound caught him wholly off-guard. Marianne retracted her hands to cover her mouth, and when Dimitri pulled back, she looked so mortified that he thought she would ascend then and there. Her reaction was so... adorable. So uniquely Marianne. Dimitri beamed down at her. Seeing his amusement, Marianne began to smile too, and they broke into silly laughter. She covered her face with both hands and leaned forward against Dimitri’s chest. He held her giggly form against his, reminded, not for the first time, of how divine she could be.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice muffled by her hands.

“Don’t apologize.” Dimitri kissed the top of her head. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have asked before I kissed you there.”

“N-No, it’s okay.” Marianne turned her head to the side, wrapping her arms around him in turn. “I, um... I liked it.”

“Oh.” Dimitri rubbed her back, feeling as awkward as she did, but his body still buzzed from their contact. “Then I would like to hear you make that sound again someday. If, uh. If you want to, that is.”

It was Marianne’s turn to laugh at his embarrassed expense.

Once they had decided the night was too chilly to remain outside, Dimitri scooped Marianne into his arms and carried her into their shared room. He stepped out of his shoes while Marianne was able to kick hers away. He laid her atop the fur blankets, on her back, and crawled into bed beside her. Dimitri praised her beauty. He hovered over Marianne, stroking her cheek, and they kissed each other all over their faces and necks and collarbones, lips locked for the better half of an hour. Her tongue was soft and the way her hands spread along his chest drove him wild. Hums of pleasure mingled with shy whimpers. Affection that had been denied them for so long spilled from their souls, from one to the other and back again. When their lips were swollen and their bodies too tired to continue, Dimitri fetched his old cloak and brought it to bed, laying on his back and gathering a glowing Marianne in his embrace. He draped the cloak over them both and held her tight.

“Soon, Marianne,” he murmured as she fell asleep. “All of Faerghus will know of my love for you.”

Tenderness was more than a simple word. Its letters were traced along the curve of her hips and its syllables laced in her sigh. It was physical. Dimitri could hold tenderness in the night and wake to kiss her good morning. It was love in the form of a word, in the form of a girl. It was the way that Marianne healed him, one smile at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they  
> are  
> so  
> SOFT  
> also sorry for the lord of the rings soundtrack shoutout but i really couldn't get that song out of my head while writing this, so i figured it may as well be the soundtrack choice. it's just that kind of party!!!! hobbits would love it!!!  
> next chapter is officially the ball. do you have your invitations ready? see you next week! <3 (there's an illustration too!)


	7. A Waltz of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[la valse de l'amour; patrick doyle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAJIMBqlGWo)]

Marianne paced with anxious fervor. Back and forth, back and forth, all across her dusty little attic. The ball was less than six hours away. She had no dress. No shoes. No makeup. No money. A future of happiness relied on her presence at the castle, yet panic had taken control of her heart, whittling her down with thoughts of fear until only jagged edges remained.

“What to do, Marianne,” she mumbled to herself. “What to do...”

Dimitri’s last letter had been so achingly sweet that she couldn’t bear to disappoint him. She clutched it in her hand as she walked, her other hand at her mouth, chewing away at her stubbed nails.

> _ Marianne, _
> 
> _ Soon, we will be together again. Soon, all the world will see how much I adore you. _
> 
> _ I will keep this letter short. There is nothing I can say now that will replace all the words we’ll exchange come sunset tomorrow. _
> 
> _ Know that I love you more than anything. You are my angel, my light in the darkness. If you would have me, I would stay by your side until my final days, holding your hand until the end. _
> 
> _ Soon, my love. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms. _
> 
> _ Dimitri _

Marianne would never forgive herself if she didn’t make it to Fhirdiad in time for the ball. She would walk if she must, wearing holes in her ragged shoes, exhausting her feet until they cracked and bled. She would likely collapse from such a trip. Margrave Edmund had been working her like a horse the past few weeks, so much that she’d lost what little weight she had to spare, barely eating, barely sleeping. It was a miracle he’d been so busy preparing for the ball that he hadn’t bothered to speak to her since she’d served lunch an hour past.

But there was a far more colossal threat that Marianne hadn’t considered until reading Dimitri’s letter. The truth of his identity, his place among the noble lines of Faerghus. The pieces clicked into place the more she gave it thought: the announcement from the town crier, Dimitri’s Crest, the reaction from the innkeeper in Eisg, the death of Dimitri’s father and Ignatz having met him at the Officer’s Academy, of all places. 

Goddess forbid, what if Dimitri was the  _ king? _

Downstairs, a bell began to chime. The bell to summon her. Marianne stuffed Dimitri’s letter under her thin mattress and scrambled down the stairs, following the sound.

Margrave Edmund was in his chambers. He stood before a floor-length mirror, admiring his formalwear of choice. A vest of emerald brocade adorned his smaller frame and a golden silk shoulder cape rippled down his right side, boasting his Alliance roots. “Come here,” he ordered. “Lace my shoes.”

Marianne came forward without question. The Margrave propped up his left foot on the ottoman beside him, and Marianne knelt to tie the laces on his fine leather boots. “Tighter,” he said. “Make the knot perfect.”

Marianne did as she was told. Once both of his shoes were tied, she moved away, and the Margrave puffed out his chest in the mirror, striving for poise as he adjusted his monocle. “Tonight is an important night,” he declared. “All the nobility will be assembled in one place. Plans, arranged and executed. If all goes well, I’ll ascend even higher on the ladder of this abhorrent country.”

Marianne clasped her hands in front of her. “I like Faerghus,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“N-Nothing.” She kept her eyes downcast. “Is there anything else you need, my lord?” Marianne didn’t bother to point out that the ball was still many hours away. Something told her that the Margrave’s every action, his every word, had been calculated far in advance.

Margrave Edmund huffed in approval, giving himself a final once-over before facing her. “Come here, Marianne.” He summoned her with his finger. “Don’t be afraid.”

Marianne hesitated before taking cautious steps toward the Margrave, stopping just shy of him. He placed his hands on either side of her arms. “You’ve served me well all these years. You know that I appreciate you, yes?”

Marianne froze to the spot. “Um...”

“Good. I have plans for you, my dear. I have decided that perhaps it’s time to take you under my wing once again.” He motioned to her face. “You’re 24 years old. You’re not getting younger.”

Marianne, confused, said nothing.

“I want you to consider your options.” Margrave Edmund moved to the opposite side of the room, taking a pair of riding gloves from his desk and slipping them onto his aged hands. “There are several ways the future can go. I can start schooling you again. We can return to the Alliance. I can once more name you my heir, and train you for governing land on your own.”

“Why now?” asked Marianne, furrowing her brow. “It’s been so long.”

“I had to test you. You’ve proven you can handle rules and minor housework, so the duties of a noble should settle nicely on your shoulders now.” The Margrave came to her again, gripping her arms tighter than before, his green gaze piercing through to her heart, suddenly menacing. “I would hate to see you make any mistakes tonight, Marianne. You have so much to lose. Your silly treasures, your books, your old horse. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

The threat was thinly veiled. Marianne opened her mouth to speak, to reject him and his ill-suited offers and cry out her love for Dimitri to spite him, but she didn’t. She nodded.

“That is what I wanted to hear.” Margrave Edmund kissed her forehead in a paternal manner and strode toward the hall. “I will be visiting with Duchess Cornelia until the ball. I will return home precisely at midnight and I expect the chores to be complete by the time I arrive. Do not be late.”

“Y-Yes, my lord,” stuttered Marianne, too quiet for him to hear. She stayed still until she heard him close the front door, the hooves of his horse clopping along the path, off to scheme with the Duchess.

His warning was ignored as quickly as it had been made.

Marianne rushed to the spare bedrooms and threw open every wardrobe, searching for a dress of any style, color or size. Anything would do. All she found was outdated Alliance menswear from decades past, clothes she’d never seen on the Margrave in all her years knowing him. Didn’t Margrave Edmund ever have a lady friend? Where had all the frilly dresses gone? Scouring through each closet she knew of, only a pair of strange glass slippers was spotted, which she overlooked without a thought.

The sun began to dip low in the summer sky. She was running out of time. Marianne started to panic, digging through old trunks that she had no business poking into, yanking open every drawer, sprinting from one side of the manor to the other and inching ever closer to hysteria. What if she had to attend the ball in rags? What if Margrave Edmund dragged her before Dimitri by the hair and confessed her Crest before she would be able to? Or what if both of these things occurred, and by the Goddess’s poor sense of humor, Dimitri really  _ was _ the king?

The knock at the door made Marianne yelp. She turned the handle and threw it open. Ignatz, dressed in a burnt orange ensemble with a feather at his lapel, held a box in his arms. A single look at her frazzled form made the smile fall from his face. “Marianne, it’s alright. Please don’t be scared.”

“Ignatz,” Marianne panted. “I don’t have a dress. I think I know who Dimitri is. Margrave Edmund threatened me and I can’t go to the ball looking like this, and--”

“Hey, hey.” Ignatz pushed past her and set the box on the nearest table. He took Marianne in his arms and held her tight, rubbing her back to comfort her. “Take a deep breath, Marianne. Remember how?”

She struggled to nod. Ignatz breathed with her, in and out, in and out, until her frantic nerves had settled and her thoughts once again came in clear patterns. Her heartbeat slowed enough to make the jitters disappear. Marianne frowned when she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Ignatz.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy to help.”

Marianne straightened Ignatz’s jacket and toyed with the little feather. “You look nice.”

“Oh, thank you. I had this suit made just for the occasion.” He beamed, bright and confident. “I found a patron for my art, Marianne. Sylvain -- uh, Margrave Gautier’s son, I mean -- he commissioned a piece from me as an anniversary gift for Felix. Err, Duke Fraldarius. I used the money to buy this suit and dresses for you and Hapi.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful, Ignatz. I’m glad you finally--” Marianne paused. “Um... did you say dresses?”

“Sure did. Yours is in the box. I should have asked you what color you wanted, but I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

Marianne eyed the box as though it would jump at her. He was so generous, her friend, so giving to others even though his opinion of himself was quite low. She supposed they were the same in that regard. “You didn’t have to do that for me. You need a house, don’t you? You can’t keep living out of the inn in Fhirdiad.”

“It’s not all that bad,” said Ignatz with a shy shrug. “I’m used to it by now. I’ve been there so long that they’ve started giving me discounts. Anyway, Hapi will be here soon. Try the dress on, won’t you? I really hope you like it.”

Moments passed before Marianne allowed herself to smile, to accept his selfless kindness. She didn’t deserve it, but how could she turn away such a treasure? “Thank you, Ignatz. Thank you so much.” She kissed his cheek and took the box in her hands, running to the nearest bedroom to change. 

The black, embossed box was engraved with a wealthy dressmaker’s name:  _ Goneril.  _ This would be a gown for a noblewoman, Marianne thought. A gown for someone she wasn’t. Even if Dimitri was the ruler of the land, she was still a servant, a peasant, a filthy farmgirl who preferred the company of animals to most humans. Her poor self-image aside, could she ever be accepted as a noble? As a king’s wife? As a...

She couldn’t bring herself to face the word. Marianne opened the box and lifted her gift from the thin paper wrappings. 

The dress was the shade of a pink carnation. Little sewn flowers and butterflies dotted their way up to the bodice, where two lavender hummingbirds in flight were embroidered on either side. The back of the dress was low and its bell sleeves would dip off of her pale shoulders. Shimmering skirts splayed out to the floor like a proper ball gown, the fabric light and weightless. The colors matched her moonstone pendant. She could picture Dimitri seeing her when she walked into the ballroom, how his eye would glaze over with that heated, passionate stare, how he’d take her into his arms and dance and twirl and kiss her all night long. Marianne hugged the dress to her chest. Filled with thoughts of love, she scurried behind the screen to change.

The gown fit her perfectly. Marianne guessed that Hapi must have helped Ignatz with her measurements. All she needed was someone to lace the corset in the back, and cinch her waist. She couldn’t resist a few twirls, watching the rosy skirts circle around her, giggling to herself.

“Marianne?” called Ignatz from behind the bedroom door. “Are you--”

Hapi entered before he could finish. She was dressed in a soft violet gown that hugged her curvaceous form, a gold circlet resting atop her head. Her hair, for once, was tamed. She chuckled at the sight of Marianne. “Aw, Sunshine. You’re so cute.”

“Hapi!” Marianne gasped, not at all embarrassed at being caught in such a childish display. “You look so beautiful. What a lovely color on you.”

“Thanks.” She shrugged. “Iggy’s not too bad at picking things out I guess. I really dig the shape.”

Ignatz came up beside Hapi, glancing between the two women with adoration. “You both look stunning. I’m so happy you like the dresses. I really wasn’t sure if you would.”

“They’re wonderful, Ignatz. I’ll never be able to repay you.” Marianne curled her hair behind her ear. “I almost feel wrong wearing it.”

“Don’t be like that,” chided Hapi. “It was literally tailor made for you. So it’s yours.”

“We just have to fix her hair and put on a bit of makeup,” Ignatz added, tapping his chin in thought as he looked her over, an artist considering his canvas. “Here. Sit down at the vanity, Marianne. We need to get started if we want to make it on time.”

Marianne had never been pampered before. Even so, Ignatz and Hapi doted on her no matter how much she protested, laughing and basking in each other’s company as they always had. Black liquid to darken her lashes, a trace of blush, pale pink color for her lips and a light spray of rose-scented perfume transformed Marianne from a peasant to a princess. Hapi braided back her hair in a low bun, leaving some flyaway strands for a look of innocence, and Ignatz strategically placed pins with white flowers into her hair to hold it in place. Marianne didn’t recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. She had become a proper lady on the outside, contrasting what was inside a great deal, but when confronted with the undeniable elegance of her appearance, she felt a little bloom of pride. 

“Are we ready?” asked Ignatz, offering his arms to his friends. “I brought a horse and cart with me. It’s not the fanciest way to travel, but it’s better than walking.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty much there.” Hapi closed the makeup kit and set it aside. “You set to go, Sunshine?”

Marianne nodded, her heart flipping about in her chest, uncertain how to beat. She was almost out of the bedroom when she halted in her tracks. “Wait,” she said, lifting her dress to look down at her worn cloth slippers. She could see her toes through the holes. “Um...”

“No one will be looking at your feet,” said Hapi.

Still, Marianne recalled the mystical heels of glass she’d encountered in her earlier search, unaware of their origins. Surely they would match, wouldn’t they? And they didn’t appear to have an owner. “You two go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Don’t take too long, okay?” Ignatz took Hapi by the arm, giddy and awkward. “Dimitri’s probably eager to see you.”

The two of them left for the main foyer, singing a hymn together as they walked arm in arm to Ignatz’s makeshift carriage. Marianne hesitated, weighing the choice before making it, stepping to the wardrobe drawer. She knelt to retrieve the mystery shoes with care so they didn’t clink together.

They were magical almost, having been torn from a storybook, glittering glass with little butterflies at the tips. Marianne had never seen them before in all her years among Margrave Edmund’s estate. How they had come to her, she did not know. But she had the pressing urge to wear them. Kicking off her pauper’s slippers, she slid her delicate feet into the glass, surprised at the level of comfort despite the material.

They fit as though the Goddess had made them for her.

“Sunshine!” called Hapi from outside. “Don’t leave Didi waiting!”

A flurry of nervous excitement made her fidgety, and Marianne abandoned the manor in haste.

Fhirdiad was alive with celebration. Colorful garments adorning nobles and commoners alike cluttered the cobbled streets leading to the castle. Taverns with open doors leaked laughter from their halls. Gamblers placed bets on the identity of the king’s anonymous lover, exchanging silver and gold for names written on parchment. Marianne hugged herself when she saw them.  _ You’ll be my secret, _ Dimitri once promised her. It couldn’t possibly...

Iron gates creaked and groaned as they parted, and the courtyards of Castle Blaiddyd opened to a boisterous crowd. A great sculpted fountain sat amongst trimmed hedges and diligent knights, overlooking all. Hapi and Marianne climbed down from the cart when Ignatz found a suitable place to stop. Craning her neck, Marianne looked up to the stone brick walls of the imposing fortress, all the torches lit against the night sky, it’s height dizzying, a home for courts and kings.

_ I haven’t seen anything so lively in years,  _ Dimitri had said in Eisg. _ Not since the coronation. _

“Whoa,” said Hapi, steadying Marianne with a hand at her back while Ignatz stabled the horse. “Don’t pass out yet. You haven’t even seen Didi.”

“Hapi,” Marianne managed to say, grasping her friend’s arms. The fear in her tone refused to be swallowed. “I’m terrified.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Marianne took a deep breath. “I think... I think that...”

“Let’s go, shall we?” said a chipper Ignatz when he returned. “I can’t wait to see how the palace is decorated. It’s such a large-scale event.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Hapi smirked to the both of them. “Did you know that Faerghus hasn’t had a queen in over twenty years? Cool stuff.”

Marianne was going to faint.

Allowing her friends to lead her through the palace doors, Marianne clutched Ignatz’s arm as if the floor beneath her feet would grow teeth and swallow her. The stone walls of the foyer were lined with candelabras and flags of Faerghus -- the same print on Dimitri’s cape. Armored knights stood vigilant throughout. Along with the other commoners, Marianne, Hapi and Ignatz were guided down an adjacent corridor that spread open to the grand ballroom, the size of which Marianne could scarcely believe. Marble floors reflected three tremendous wrought-iron chandeliers. Dark timber columns with silver vines twisting around the wood stretched to the ceiling, and an open second floor allowed space for more partygoers, curious nobles looking down from their conversations to those who entered. Banquet tables bordered the ballroom on every side, sporting feasts of grandeur that hungry citizens plucked away at while engaging one another. An orchestra played a jovial tune.

_ Soon all of Faerghus will know of my love for you. _

“Sunshine?” asked Hapi, touching Marianne’s arm. “Hey, you don’t look so good.”

“I’m...” Marianne gripped her hand over her stomach. “I’m alright. I just... I...”

“Oh. I think she gets it now, Iggy.” 

“Looks like it,” chimed Ignatz. “Do you want to sit down, Marianne? I can bring you a chair.”

“N-No.” Marianne held Hapi’s hand. She needed to see him. She had to make sure, to confirm the impossible; Dimitri, the King of Faerghus, a man the people deemed a savior, had taken her in his arms and called her lovely.

Marianne searched the crowd. A sea of faces made waves through the ballroom, none of them belonging to the man she loved, until one did. Dimitri stood gallant by two knights at the head of the room, wearing rich clothes and a fur cloak in the colors of his kingdom, and a crown.

Their eyes met. A gasp was pulled from her, unbidden. Dimitri smiled at her across the room, a smile of apologies and deep yearning. He looked dashing in a crown. It fit atop his golden head as though he’d been born with it.

“Let’s go, Iggy,” said Hapi as she let go of Marianne’s hand. “Give them a minute to figure things out. The food is calling me anyway.”

Marianne stood helpless as Dimitri broke his discussion with the knights and crossed the ballroom floor. The sea of people parted for him, curious eyes following the king’s every move, itching to know who he intended to meet. What was it the town crier had said that day in the markets?  _ Our king intends to ask for the hand of our future queen, in marriage. _

By the time Dimitri reached her, Marianne was holding her face in her hands, trembling from anxiety that took root and spread like weeds.

“Marianne,” said Dimitri, his tone low, almost sad. “I’m... I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t turned you away.”

She shook her head, unable to look at him. “I should have known,” she pleaded. “The answer was right in front of me, but I was too blind to see it.”

Dimitri shifted his feet. The guests around them grew quiet. “I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid that you would refuse to see me. It was selfish. I should have been honest with you.”

“No, I... I understand.” She slowly lowered her hands from her face, her eyes downcast.

Dimitri flexed his hands. An anxious tick. “Marianne, my station can bring complications. You’re shy, and I know there is someone in your life who you fear, but that changes nothing for me. I would--”

Marianne mustered the courage to meet his heartfelt gaze. “Are you sure?” she interrupted. “About... me? I’m not regal at all. I’m not fit for this life, Dimitri.”

“Neither am I,” he answered with a grin. “But I take responsibility for it all the same.” Dimitri rubbed the side of his neck. She could tell that he shared her desire to be close, but he kept a respectful distance, not wanting to force her into action in front of half the city. “I’ve never been more certain about anything. If not you, then I will take no one. But I suppose we can discuss it more after we’ve had our secret talk. If that is still agreeable to you...?”

Marianne nodded. “It is.”

Dimitri closed some of the space between them, resting his hands at his sides, his eye desperate. “By, uh...” He cleared his throat. “By some luck, do you still think of me fondly, Marianne?”

She smiled a bit. “Of course I do. I’m just surprised.”

His sigh of relief was so heavy that his posture weakened.

“Nothing could change the way I think of you, Dimitri. Not even this.” Marianne motioned to his iron crown, embellished with sapphires. “I just, um... I don’t think I’d...” She bit her lip. Just saying the world felt impossible, unworthy to fall from her tongue. “I don’t think I’d make a very good, um... a good...”

“Queen?” Dimitri chuckled. “I think you would be perfect.” He offered his hand to her. “But before all that, as king, I can’t officially start the ball until I’ve had the first dance. I would like to share it with you, if you’ll have me.”

A dance with a king was more than just that. It was a spark for gossip and inquiries at court, probing questions into their relationship and countless other public discomforts. Margrave Edmund would be furious. He was watching her, somewhere. But compared to a king, a Margrave was quite small, and Marianne’s love outweighed her fear. She took Dimitri’s hand and beamed at him, and he at her.

A whispering hush fell over the crowd. The click of her heels echoed along the walls. Dimitri led Marianne to the center of the room, and surrounding citizens formed a wide circle to give space for a waltz. Marianne was acutely aware that every eye in the ballroom was focused on her. “Do you need a moment?” Dimitri asked.

“No,” she replied. “I’m not as scared anymore.” She looked into his eye. “I know I’m safe with you.”

Dimitri smiled and kissed her hand. “Maestro,” he said to the orchestra’s conductor, pulling Marianne close, his free hand sliding around the small of her back. On cue, the music began to play.

The waltz was sweeping and simple. “The Waltz of Love,” it was called, and true to form, Marianne and Dimitri danced across the floor as if they were alone, the swish of her gown the only sound among the strings. Marianne giggled when he spun her. The effortless way he lifted her by the waist brought applause from the onlookers. Marianne and Dimitri shared smiles and steps and laughter in stride, and she did not cringe in the spotlight, following the lead of the music. When the dance was done, he dipped her low, both breathless from such a public display of all they’d kept secret from the world, and they looked upon one another with the deepest love.

The bystanders erupted into cheers. Dimitri guided Marianne upright. Lost in each other, forgetting implication and propriety, they shared a tender kiss under the eyes of his subjects. As ever, his lips made her feel like flying. Surrounding applause and cries of joy dulled for them as they held one other. Together at last.

“Come,” Dimitri told her, kissing her again. “I want to introduce you to my friends before we have our talk. They’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Marianne nodded in excitement, and Dimitri took her by the hand, leading her through the throngs of people searching for a glance at the woman who would wear a crown.

Dedue was as massive as Dimitri had told her he’d be, and just as kindly. He greeted her with a mellow smile and introduced her to his wife, Mercedes, who was Dimitri’s personal healer. Mercedes embraced Marianne as though they were old friends and praised their first dance, offering to have tea with her at the castle sometime. Annette was a tiny ginger thing with a bubbly personality, if a bit of a klutz, tripping over her dress as she dragged her freckled husband-to-be to the dance floor. Ingrid stood vigilant with the knights under her charge. Armored in steel rather than a gown, Dimitri’s lady knight was proudly on duty, though she frequented the buffet tables for seconds and thirds as they talked. 

Dimitri eventually led Marianne to two men drinking wine by a far window, standing close and whispering in each other’s ears until the king approached.

“This is Duke Felix Fraldarius,” Dimitri explained to Marianne, motioning to the shorter of the men. His dark hair fell down to his shoulders and his gaze was calculative, but not unkind. “He is the highest ranking member of the nobility. He’s also my right hand man, you could say.”

“Don’t get sappy.” Felix held out his hand to Marianne, his expression neutral. “Nice to meet you. Dimitri hasn’t shut up about his forest girl in two months.”

Marianne’s cheeks flushed as she took his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too. My name is Marianne.”

“Oh, pretty name.” The man beside Felix, a tall redhead with a sly grin, elbowed Dimitri in the side. “Pretty girl, too. You really weren’t lying when you kept going on about how beautiful she is, Your Majesty. And that smile!”

Marianne’s blush deepened as she giggled. She wasn’t a sociable person by nature, but Dimitri’s friends had all been so inviting that her timidness shrunk away. “Thank you.”

Dimitri groaned. “This is Sylvain. Ignore his flirtatious antics. It seems marriage can’t even stop him, but at least it tamed him somewhat.”

Dimitri turned to her then, searching her face, waiting for something. Some reaction. Both Felix and Sylvain were studying her in the same manner, as if bracing themselves for a speech. Marianne couldn’t tell if they were upset.

Between Felix and Sylvain, their hands were linked, fingers entwined. “Oh,” she said. “I understand. You’re the ones who commissioned Ignatz for the wedding portrait, weren’t you? That was so nice of you. He needs the exposure.”

The three men collectively sighed. Marianne didn’t need an explanation; the way the other nobles glared at Felix and Sylvain in disgust said enough. They weren’t even allowed the dignity of engaging with the crowd, having been banished to the outer edges of the ballroom with their wine and their solitude. Their marriage must be a topic of tension. How sad.

Silence passed between the four of them. Marianne glanced around and saw the stares of the nobility watching her speak with the married men, hovering around them like vultures to gauge her, wanting to know if she approved.

“Have you had the opportunity to dance yet?” asked Marianne. “I’m not normally someone who likes dancing, but with Dimitri, it’s, um... it’s really nice.” She toyed with her hair. “You should be able to dance too.”

“Nah,” joked Sylvain. He lifted Felix’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Felix hates dancing. It was like pulling teeth just to get him here. He only wanted to meet you, actually.”

“I don’t hate dancing,” Felix retorted. “I just don’t want to be the center of attention with all these snakes around. Fhirdiad’s court and I don’t mix well.”

“That’s too bad,” said Marianne. She wrung her hands, looking to Dimitri for permission before realizing she didn’t need it. He would support her no matter what. She summoned her courage -- if this was to be her court someday too, she would make her sympathies known and leave no room for doubt. “If, um... if the two of you would like to dance, you should have the chance to. If they won’t like you dancing alone together, you could, um... dance with me?” Marianne shook her head fast. “O-Only as friends, of course. I’m not trying to imply anything. I just, um... I think you both should get to dance, is all.”

Sylvain and Felix looked to each other with the same longing she’d seen in Dimitri an hour past. “You wanna do this?” asked Sylvain with a smirk. “It’ll piss people off. I know that’s your favorite.”

Felix chuckled. “I can’t say no when you put it like that.” Setting their empty wine glasses on a nearby table, Felix and Sylvain walked toward the forming line of commoners preparing to dance, hand in hand, boldly defying the disdainful gazes of their peers.

When Marianne looked up to Dimitri, he was smiling at her with unmatched warmth. “Thank you, my love. Let’s join them.”

_ My love.  _ Hearing him call her that made Marianne’s stomach flutter like the butterflies on her dress. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and led her once more to the center of the room. Dimitri lined up beside Felix on the men’s side while Marianne took up a position across from them, beside Sylvain, with the women. Their presence alone amongst the commoners created eager conversation. Taking each other’s hands, twirling and clapping to the music, it was more a commoner’s dance than one for nobility, which made it all the more fun. Dimitri’s other friends did not hesitate to join in. By the song’s end, Marianne felt welcomed into their group as though she truly belonged, having spent time on the arm of each and every one of them. Even Felix smiled at her.

Three dances and much laughter later, they all disbanded to go their separate ways, either with their partners or to socialize elsewhere. Another waltz commenced. Dimitri leaned down to Marianne’s ear as he led her toward the back door. “Shall we have our talk now?” he asked.

Her shoulders tensed. Marianne was frightened by the notion that she would have to confess her past in exchange for his. Her Crest alone threatened the trust she and Dimitri had built, and Faerghus placed such great importance on bloodlines. But if she were to reveal herself to anyone aside from Hapi and Ignatz, it would be to the man she loved. Dimitri deserved the truth. She submitted in agreement as he spirited her from the ballroom.

Marianne caught the familiar glint of candlelight off a monocle, but when she turned, Margrave Edmund was nowhere to be seen.

Outside, the evening summer air was crisp and cool, moonlit gardens offering solitude with only the flowers for company. White lilies and hyacinths bordered stone pathways and trimmed holly hedges. A glistening fish pond rested beneath an old, twisted oak tree. Dimitri guided Marianne to the edge of the garden where a wooden bench swing sat beneath a trellis woven with ivy, overlooking the city of Fhirdiad, bathed in starlight. “It’s breathtaking,” said Marianne in awe. “You can see the whole city from here.”

“I liked this place as a boy, too,” Dimitri replied. He stepped closer to Marianne and placed his hands on her waist. Her back straightened, and her skin heated as he leaned down to brush the tip of his nose against hers. “I like it even more with you.”

“Do you?” she teased.

“Most certainly.”

Dimitri pressed his lips to hers. Marianne wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled as their kiss turned hungry in mere moments, desire for closeness rippling through her. “I missed you,” she breathed. Two weeks apart was far too long. Dimitri lifted her by the waist and hooked one arm under her thighs, capturing her mouth with his own, his other hand moving up her back, tracing along her exposed shoulder blades. She shuddered in his embrace. Their lovelaced kisses were as needy as they were passionate, and they didn’t cease for a short while, showering each other’s faces and mouths with affection long overdue.

“You are so beautiful, Marianne.” Dimitri kissed her cheek. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you yet. You outshine everyone here, in all of Fhirdiad. All of Faerghus.” He moved his lips to the side of her neck, breathing her in and kissing her there, making her laugh from his unhindered romance. “You are so very beautiful.”

Dimitri was warm, golden and bright like the sun. Full of love, Marianne pulled her head back to nuzzle her nose back and forth against his. His smile brought day from night. “You’re beautiful, too.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Well, thank you.” Carrying her to the bench, Dimitri set her down and took the empty space at her side, sitting next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They swung together and kissed and praised one another endlessly. 

It would be so easy to forget what they’d come to talk about, lost in each other until the ball had long passed.

Dimitri took a deep breath and sighed. The mood turned solemn, the trickle of water in the pond the only sound between them for a short while. “I suppose we should have our discussion.”

“Now is a good time.” Marianne looked up to him, concern replacing rapture. “Are you comfortable?”

“As comfortable as I can be.” Dimitri closed his eye, breathing slowly, and Marianne took his other hand in hers to show her support. “I’ll go first, if you wish. But I’m sorry if you view me differently afterward. I would not blame you for walking away.”

Marianne curled his hair behind his ear. How he ever viewed himself so lowly, she would never know. “I’m listening, Dimitri. I want to be here for you.”

Dimitri leaned into her hand, letting time tick by before he spoke.

Dimitri honored his promise and told her everything. Every detail. The bloodbath that was the Tragedy of Duscur, his father’s gruesome beheading, his stepmother in flames, fields littered with mangled corpses. Voices loathing him for years, calling out to him from hallucinations of the dead, the insane strive for vengeance that made Dimitri snap shortly after his coronation. He’d spent two years as a vagrant slaying anyone who came into his path while Felix’s late father tried to pick up the pieces of their shattered nation. Dimitri mournfully confessed to slaughtering innocent men and women before finally being found and restrained, hunted down by his friends who never gave up the search. They encouraged him, saved him. Trial and error lead to some form of treatment. Devoting himself to Faerghus in the name of penance and duty, Dimitri’s renewed leadership had transformed a broken kingdom into a place of prosperity. But the voices and the visions still haunted his fractured mind. Always whispering, always watching, never very far away.

By the time Dimitri finished, his hands trembled and he grimaced from an unknown pain. “Dimitri,” whispered Marianne, aching to comfort him, to hold him close until he forgot his anguish. His heart had been laid bare for her. Vulnerable and scarred, but beating, and so very worthy.

“I’m alright,” he managed, wincing again.

Marianne was not convinced. Her blood ran cold, and would remain so until warmth returned in Dimtiri’s smile. She stood, knowing he needed solace through touch, and Dimitri allowed her to sit sideways on his lap so they might be closer. “Please, Dimitri, be honest with me. Where does it hurt?”

Dimitri shook his head. His hand rose to her back while the other rested on her thighs, and he pulled her closer, his voice low and tired. “It’s a headache I’ve had for over ten years, now. It never really goes away. It gets worse whenever I think about Duscur.”

Marianne looked down to her open palms. “I, um... I know some healing magic,” she offered. “My mother taught it to me. It might help with the pain.” She wasn’t very skilled due to lack of training, but Dimitri was well worth the effort. Focusing her energy, Marianne’s fingertips began to glow with white light. She reached for him.

“Marianne--” he tried to protest, but the moment her fingertips pressed to his temples, Dimitri let out a shuddered sigh that shook him. Marianne drained what little power she had, the dull heat of her spell flowing from skin to skin. She watched his furrowed brow ease. He closed his eye and rested his forehead to hers, and his trembling did not stop.

“Does, um... does that feel better?” Marianne asked when she was done, lowering her hands to cup his cheeks, dizzy despite the spell’s simplicity. “I can try again if it doesn’t.”

“Marianne, I-I...” Dimitri’s voice cracked. The quiver in his shoulders foretold his tears. No weakness in the world meant more than this. Marianne gently removed his crown and set it aside, kissing his lips with tenderness before wrapping her arms around him. Dimitri buried his face in the crook of her neck and sobbed, harsh and gutting. He clung to her like a sinner to salvation. Hot tears spilled down her shoulder. Marianne found herself crying too, unable and unwilling to let him suffer alone. She stroked his soft hair and whispered affirmations he so sorely needed. She told him he was an honorable man, a savior, a king, a good-natured soul with kindness abound. She told him she loved him, for that was no less true, and kept him in her arms until he calmed. Little kisses trailed up the side of her neck. Dimitri’s voice was a shaken murmur when he spoke. “You are an angel to me.”

Marianne sniffled and kissed the side of his head, once, twice. “It’s no less than you deserve.”

Dimitri lifted his head from her shoulder, his eye red and puffy, cradling the back of her neck. “Can you still accept me for who I am? Even after all I’ve done?”

“I do.” She smiled at him. “I accept you, always. Thank you for being so brave and sharing everything with me.”

“Only with you.” Dimitri rested his forehead to hers. They breathed in and out together, tranquil, full of peace. Marianne nuzzled her nose to his, and he smiled. “I need love,” Dimitri told her. “Perhaps that makes me weak, but it is the truth. I can’t rule beside a stranger. I won’t.” His free hand slid around her waist to pull her closer. He brushed his lips against hers, making her sigh, pressing a kiss there. “I still don’t believe I deserve you. But I would spend all my days with you, my love, no matter what your story may be. Nothing you say tonight can alter how I feel. I am ready whenever you wish to share.”

Dimitri’s assurance was a balm on her aching wounds, but it did not heal them. Marianne whimpered when he kissed her again. It was one thing to give acceptance freely, but to receive it? To open her heart, root to stem? The thought left her paralyzed. “You don’t... you d-don’t know what you’re asking for,” she said, her stutter reflecting her fear. “It’s about my C-Crest, Dimitri. I’ll only bring misfortune to you.”

“You or your Crest could never.” Dimitri kissed her again before leaning against the back of the bench swing, hugging her tight to his chest. “Whenever you’re ready, Marianne, you can tell me everything. I am here to aid you in whatever way I can.”

And he would. Dimitri was devoted to her. She could no longer deny the way he held her and kissed her with fervor, calling her an angel, calling her lovely. A man who’d suffered so much had found love by his own admittance. Here, with her, an accursed farmgirl of all people.

Marianne took a deep breath and nestled into Dimitri’s embrace. She stayed still for as long as she dared. Dimitri didn’t encourage her to speak or imply any impatience. He seemed content holding her under the stars as he had been twice before, always as caring as he was understanding.

Perhaps it would be safe to open herself. Perhaps he wouldn’t engage the Crest scholars who would flock to him, warning him against his ill choice for a queen, and ignore the disapproval of the nobility who wished to see his bloodline endure. Perhaps he would still call her lovely even when his kingdom was ripping at the seams.

She opened her mouth. “My Crest is--”

_ Bong. Bong. _

Marianne scrambled to her feet. The hollow cathedral bells chimed with the hour, both clock hands pointing mockingly to the sky.

Midnight.

“I have to go.” Marianne turned to Dimitri, breathing fast, gathering her skirts to prepare to run. “I have to leave, Dimitri. I’ll -- I’ll leave a letter, okay? I’ll--”

“Wait!” Dimitri shot up from the bench in alarm and took her by the shoulders. His gaze was pleading. “Marianne, I beg you. Don’t leave. No one can hurt you here, don’t you understand? No one would dare lay a hand on you anymore.” His tone was both stern and desperate, his thumbs brushing along the edges of her collarbone to comfort her. “Please stay. Stay with me. I love you.”

Marianne placed her hands on his chest. “As I love you,” she whimpered. “But--”

“Live here,” urged Dimitri. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away about marriage. But you can still stay here, Marianne. I’ll give you the finest room that overlooks the stables at sunrise. You'll be free from the man who holds you captive, and I will ensure that he never sees the light of day again. You can thrive here. You and Dorte both.”

A sad smile crept across her face. Marianne could picture it, life at the castle free of Margrave Edmund’s fist and fierce manipulation. She would wake every morning and eat breakfast with Dimitri, observe court, tend the stables, go for long horseback rides with the man she loved while adjusting to the idea of becoming his queen. If her deep-rooted fear and self-loathing would allow her a chance at happiness...

“Dorte,” she muttered. 

“Yes. Of course Dorte can come, and all your animals, too. I would never ask you to leave them behind.”

“N-No. I mean, yes, I would very much like to have them with me,” said Marianne in a rush, “but Dorte isn’t here. I left him at the manor. I need to bring him here, Dimitri, or else he’ll be hurt. My father will hurt him.”

“Alright.” Dimitri kissed her forehead. “Let me go with you. I’ll protect you, Marianne.”

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.” One thought of Cornelia, of the dark, wicked magic and inhumane experiments Hapi had witnessed was all it took for Marianne to assert herself. She could not risk Dimitri’s life. “Stay here, please. I’ll come back.” She forced a smile, standing on her toes to kiss him. “I promise.”

“At least take some of the knights with you,” asserted Dimitri. “I can’t bear to lose you, Marianne. Please.” 

She relented with a nod.

Dimitri captured her face in his hands and kissed her deep, solidifying their promise. Marianne tore herself away before she lost her will. Clutching her skirts in her hands, she ran down the garden path to the stables, the wind whipping through her hair as terror burrowed in her heart. Margrave Edmund could retaliate in any other way, destroying her possessions, locking her out of the manor, beating her, anything, anything. But Marianne could not let him touch her precious Dorte.

The midnight chimes had long ended.

“Lady Marianne,” said one of three knights who met her at the stables. “We’re here to escort you. We leave at once.”

Marianne was assisted onto the back of a stallion, and she clung to the knight in the saddle as they rode through town, in haste as Dimitri had commanded.

With Marianne’s guidance, it did not take long for the three of them to reach Margrave Edmund’s estate. She was aided to the ground. Not wasting a moment, Marianne dashed as quickly and quietly as she could to the barn so as not to alert the Margrave. If she could retrieve Dorte without confrontation, they would all be better for it. 

She unlatched the barn’s great double doors and crept inside. “Dorte?” she whispered.

No whinny of response. No huff, no snort. Nothing. “Dorte, are you here?”

Marianne rounded the corner. Dorte was fast asleep in his stall, lying down, his tail flicking from a dream. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she unhooked the latch. “Come on, Dorte. It’s time to get up. We need to--”

A blast of light illuminated the barn with a purple hue, followed by the knights’ sickening screams. Marianne cried out until a ring-crested hand clapped her mouth shut in a firm grip. Margrave Edmund pulled her tight to his chest and poised a blade to her throat, pricking her skin, dripping blood.

“You’re  _ late, _ Marianne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was illustrated by the amazingly talented @[riotbones](https://twitter.com/moffnat/status/1301177598903382017) on Twitter. I adored working with her. Give her art the appreciation it so deserves!  
> I love the final few chapters of this fic and I hope you do, too.  
> See you next Wednesday. Poor Dima. :(


	8. A Slipper of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[silver and silver; eric owyoung](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYE_pgrqir0&ab_channel=FutureofForestry)]   
> 

Dimitri knew something was amiss when two hours passed and Marianne did not return. He ordered the knights to alert him the second she arrived and secluded himself in his chambers. Two hours turned to three, and three to four, until the sun began to creep over the horizon without a trace of the woman he loved. Dimitri paced in his room as he often did to quell the voices when stress ate at him, nibbling away bit by terrible bit. 

The knock at the door made him jump. “Marianne?”

It was Dedue who entered. He frowned when he looked upon the king. “You need rest.”

“I’ll rest when I know she’s safe.” Dimitri continued to pace, moving faster, more agitated. “I was such a _ fool, _ Dedue! I was so caught up in asking her to marry me that I didn’t bother begging her for the name of her captor. I should have held her close until she told me, so I’d know where to look in case she never came back.”

“I am aware. But what’s done is done.” Dedue came forward and placed his great hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, stopping him from moving. “Now is the time for action. What are we going to do?”

Dimitri took a deep breath and released. He held Dedue’s arm, tethering himself to the world, to the present. His fear for Marianne’s safety morphed to a righteous anger. “We must turn Fhirdiad inside out,” he declared. “Have Ingrid take her Pegasus Knights and search the surrounding area outside the city. And someone  _ must _ locate Duchess Cornelia. I’m certain her trickery is at play.” Dimitri cast his eye to the window and the rising dawn; he’d been pacing nonstop for hours and his legs had grown sore. “Whoever is involved with Marriane’s disappearance is to be detained immediately for treason. A strike against her is a strike against the crown.”

Dedue nodded. “I will go with Gustave and organize the knights inside the city. We will find her, Dimitri. Please do not give up hope.”

Dimitri dragged his fingers through his hair, half-tempted to pull it out. “I’m afraid, Dedue. I’m afraid that my complete lack of intelligence has cost her everything. If I knew where she lived, we would have at least had a place to start. I could’ve--”

“Your Majesty!” The cry from outside his chambers startled them both. Ingrid burst into the room, hair a mess, still wearing her modest sleeping gown. Her expression was wild with urgency. “Someone’s just tried to assassinate Sylvain. Felix has the killer pinned.”

_ “What?” _ gasped Dimitri. 

He wasted no time. Dimitri, Dedue and Ingrid moved quickly from the king’s quarters to the floor just below, where Felix and Sylvain slept while away from their territories. Dimitri heard shouting. He rounded the stone brick corner into their bedchamber. Felix had his husband’s assailant at swordpoint, snarling with an anger Dimitri had never seen from him, his eyes cold and sharper than the blade. Sylvain was watching from the other side of the room, sad, but otherwise unharmed.

“Who do you work for?” shouted Felix. “There’s nowhere to run. Tell me and I’ll kill you fast.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” The would-be killer had the build of a soldier. Broad shoulders and a neutral stare, he was a man experienced with death. Dimitri knew such a man when he saw one. “Just kill me. I’ve already failed. I’d rather die by your hand than hers.”

“Her who?” demanded Dimitri, stepping forward to support Felix in any way he could, though Marianne still occupied his mind. “I will consider a sentence other than execution if you speak with us, stranger. As king, I can--”

The man spit at Dimitri’s feet. “You are no king of mine, but a madman. At least let Fraldarius do the deed.”

“Gladly,” said Felix. Before Dimitri could stop him, he thrust his blade through the throat of the assassin and did not stay to watch him die. Felix rushed to Sylvain, dropping his sword as he pulled his husband into his arms. Dimitri watched with a grimace as the killer grasped at his own throat, trying to speak, crumbling to the ground until he twitched no more.

“I’m alright, Felix,” Sylvain tried to assure. He rubbed Felix’s back for comfort, but it did nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders. Dimitri stayed quiet to allow them a moment while Dedue searched the assailant’s corpse. “Come on. The guy didn’t even break skin.”

“Only because I woke up in time,” pushed Felix. “What’d you do? You don’t owe someone a debt, do you?”

Sylvain only laughed. “Nah. If I owed someone money, I’d make them come after you, not me. You’re the breadwinner here, Mr. Shield of Faerghus.”

Dimitri tried to smile as his friends shared a kiss, but seeing their love made him ache for Marianne. “This is calculated,” he said to them at last. “How did this man get past the knights?”

“He didn’t,” said Ingrid mournfully, arms crossed, looking down at the body. “He  _ is _ a knight. I recognize him. We were just training together a few days ago, after Sylvain’s father arrived for the ball. He’s from Gautier territory.”

“My old man?” Sylvain scoffed. “There’s no way he ordered a hit on his heir. I’m all he has.”

Dimitri groaned, running his fingers through his hair again and again, stress building, the whispering in his mind growing louder. Margrave Gautier, Cornelia and Hapi, Marianne and her mysterious abusive father -- how was it all connected? “Agh. I sent three knights with Marianne, and for what? Were they in on all this, too?”

“Marianne hasn’t come back?” asked Felix.

“No. She was supposed to but she hasn’t returned, and now...” Dimitri huffed and clenched his fists. Uselessness did not settle well with him. In the corner of the room, King Lambert glared, his head tilting to the side until it separated with a fleshy  _ crack _ and rolled off his shoulders. Dimitri shut his eye and forced out a huff of breath. “I can’t just sit here. These two events are connected, they must be. I won’t let whoever’s behind this get away with what they’ve done.”

When Dimitri opened his eye, the figure of his father was gone.

Felix grabbed his coat and boots, not bothering to dress out of his sleepwear. “I’ll go with you. If we find that painter kid in the market, he can tell us where Marianne is. They’re friends, aren’t they?”

Dimitri stood there, unresponsive. It took time to sort through his fuzzy thoughts. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and his friends in the room waited for him, patient through it all. He breathed deeply. Painter, painter, who was the painter? “Ignatz,” said Dimitri at last. He lifted his head. “Felix, you’re brilliant.”

“I know.” Felix stood before Dimitri. “You alright?”

“Yes. It was momentary, but it’s gone now.”

Felix seemed to accept that reply. He kissed Sylvain on the forehead as Dimitri gave orders to Dedue and Ingrid, and the two of them left Castle Blaiddyd in haste.

The Sunday markets weren’t half as busy as usual. Most of the citizens who attended the ball were still drunk or in bed, or both. The streets were thinned, almost bare with customers and only a fraction of the vendors had awoken to sell wares. Dimitri was interested in none of them. One glimpse of the small artist with glasses set the king to a rushed jog. He did not consider his actions when he snatched a frightened Ignatz by the collar and hoisted him to his feet. “Marianne never returned,” Dimitri blurted without explanation. “Please, Ignatz, tell me you’ve seen her.”

“Y-Your Majesty!” gasped Ignatz, fumbling with his glasses to make sure they stayed on. “What do you mean she never returned? I thought she stayed the night with you.”

Dimitri shook his head. He let go of Ignatz, frowning at the rip in his shirt he’d caused. Somewhere nearby, his stepmother cackled. “Forgive me for startling you, but I  _ must _ find Marianne. I fear she’s in danger.”

“Okay. Of course I’ll help.” Ignatz rubbed his neck as he and Felix tensely waved to each other. “What did she say before she left the ball?”

“Something about how her father would be enraged if she wasn’t home by midnight,” said Dimitri. “She wanted to retrieve Dorte so she could stay with me without fear of her father’s retaliation, but she never came back. I even sent knights with her for safety.” Dimitri winced, the pain in his head exaggerated in his lover’s absence. “I need to know where she lives, Ignatz. The name of her father, or her captor, or her lord. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure if they’re the same person.”

“They are.” Ignatz, kind as he was, began to scowl. “Captor, lord, father, all of it. His name is Margrave Edmund. He lives in an estate about a mile from the city, right next to Duchess Cornelia.”

Cornelia. Dimitri’s lip curled. “Is that so?”

“He’s Marianne’s adoptive father. Or he was, until he disowned her when he found out about her Crest. He’s made her his servant for the past eight years. He makes her sleep in the attic and only lets her eat leftovers. She’s the sole servant in that whole manor, too. She does everything.”

All around Dimitri, the world began to lose its color. “And Margrave Edmund is the one who harms her?” he snarled. “Who punishes her with his fists?”

Solemn, Ignatz nodded.

_ Kill him, _ came the voices, sickeningly sweet in Dimitri’s ear.  _ Sever his limbs. Bathe in his blood. Kill Margrave Edmund. Kill him for us. _

Dimitri had learned to ignore the gruesome demands of the dead, but not all violence could be avoided. Rage settled comfortably in his heart, in the small section where it made its home, closed off except for times such as these. “Very well,” he stated. Dimitri left his friends without so much as a goodbye. He stormed toward the castle stables. The dead chattered excitedly at the promise of a fresh kill, of justice. He did not have time to breathe and force them away. Knowing the others would not be far behind, Dimitri mounted Lissa and tore through the city, and once he was free of Fhirdiad’s great iron gates, he urged his mare ahead at full speed.

Margrave Edmund. Dimitri had met him a handful of times, a charismatic charmer, as men who harmed women could often be. He was always quick to offer his opinions on matters that didn’t concern him. He was a pleaser, a schemer, more focused on promoting his own agenda than that of the people who sorely needed aid. Not unlike many other nobles, in truth. Dimitri had overlooked him more often than not.

That would change very soon.

Dimitri ground Lissa to a halt once he arrived at the Margrave’s estate. He recognized it all from Marianne’s letters -- the barn for Dorte and the friendly cow, the chicken coop with Loog, Kyphon and Pan, the little patch of fenced farmland off the side of the kitchen door. The architecture of the manor was not what impressed Dimitri. Marianne was only a servant here, a slave, but there was more of her in these lands than there had ever been of Margrave Edmund. Her presence lingered, much like the ghosts that observed from afar.

Dimitri dismounted Lissa. Filled with fury, he charged toward the manor door, kicking it in with brute force. The wood splintered and shattered.  _ “Margrave Edmund!” _ he bellowed. The boom of his voice reverberated through the walls, shaking a mirror. “Make yourself known now, or I will consider it treason!”

A thud resounded from upstairs. Dimitri snapped his head to the sound and ran up the staircase three at a time, his footsteps thundering down the painted hall.

The door at the end of the corridor opened. Margrave Edmund’s green eyes widened when he saw the king. “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed, still dressed in his sleeping robe. “What a pleasant surprise. I’d hoped to--”

Dimitri snatched the man by the collar and dragged him screaming into his chambers. He slammed the Margrave’s back into his wardrobe so hard that the wood cracked. “I will give you one opportunity to answer this question before I hurt you, Margrave. Where is she?”

Margrave Edmund tried to pull at the king’s wrist to free himself, to no avail. “Y-Your Majesty, I believed she was with you! You danced at the ball, yes?”

“Do _ not _ lie to me.” Dimitri leaned closer, his gaze murderous. “Where. Is. Marianne.”

“I have not seen her, my king.” The Margrave appeared to be an excellent liar, which did not shock Dimitri in the slightest. “I didn’t get a chance to congratulate her after I assumed she accepted your proposal. To think, my daughter will--”

Dimitri roared and tightened his grip on the noble’s collar. He threw the man hard to the floor, relishing in the sound of a bone’s snap. The Margrave cried out in anguish and held his shoulder. “I warned you not to lie to me,” Dimitri growled.

“Your Majesty! I--”

Dimitri dropped to his knees by Margrave Edmund’s side and snatched him by the throat, holding him to the floor. “I know the truth, Margrave. You abuse Marianne. You exude such power over her that she fears not only for her safety, but for mine as well. Your life is forfeit. Withhold honesty now, and I will not hesitate to sentence you to a painful death, which I will deliver personally.”

The pain that twisted the Margrave’s features warped even further with a sick smile. “You really are as mad as they say.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Margrave Edmund laughed in his bitterness. “Marianne is far from here, boy. And rightfully so. The truth of her Crest would ruin your line. I did this to save your future.”

“You steal the woman I love from my grasp and dare to call yourself a hero?” Dimitri leaned closer, his tone menacing. “Explain yourself.”

“Let me go first.”

“You are not in a position to negotiate. Speak quickly, or I will crush your throat in my hand.”

The Margrave laughed again. “Oh, yes. How lucky Marianne is to have a man like you. I suppose you’re meant for each other.” He squirmed under Dimitri’s hold, but could not get free, and lay still in defeat. “She bears the Crest of the Beast, you know. A cursed Crest. Everyone in her family line has suffered because of it.”

Even in his rage, Dimitri was able to recall what Marianne had said in Eisg --  _ I have no parents, no true home, no escape from this thing inside me. _ She’d tried to tell him at the ball, too, before the bell chimed.

“Her father was my second cousin,” Margrave Edmund continued. “He bore the Crest as well, but he tried to hide it from the world. Not that it mattered. His territory suffered misfortune after misfortune. People died, crops died. A Crest scholar came and told everyone it was their family who had cursed the land with their presence, and in their ire, the villagers formed a mob. They brutalized her parents with such ferocity that even you might shudder.” He chuckled dryly. “After that, Marianne was left to the streets. I found her in an orphanage and took her under my wing, hoping to marry her off to a wealthy nobleman and rise to my rightful place among the Five Lords of the Alliance. But when I discovered the truth of her inherited Crest, I knew there would be no future for me. It would only be a matter of time before the scholars discovered Marianne, and so I relocated here.”

Dimitri felt sick. Marianne, his beloved bride-to-be, wandering the streets as an orphan? Her parents killed, just as his had been. Under all his wrath, Dimitri’s heart wept for her.

“Set me free and I’ll tell you the rest,” said Margrave Edmund. “Promise me amnesty. I’ll even tell you who killed your Gautier friend.”

“Sylvain is still alive,” Dimitri countered. “They failed to account for his husband.”

“So it would seem.” Margrave Edmund squirmed once more, his eyes pleading. “Let me go. Please, Your Majesty. I’ll tell you everything.”

“All that matters to me right now is what you’ve done with Marianne. If she is found alive and unharmed, only then will I listen to you.”

The Margrave shook his head, as much as he was able with his neck pinned to the floor. “Not even I know where she’s gone. I sold her to Duchess Cornelia. She’s halfway to hell by now, if what I know of the Duchess is true. Some things are worse than death.”

Dimitri clenched his other, trembling fist. “You lie.”

“It is the truth.”

Hatred, so familiar, surged through him. Whispers turned to shouts in his head. He would paint the room red with this wretch’s blood and tear his limbs while he still lived. Dimitri let out a cry of despair and raised his arm to strike a crushing blow.

“Dimitri!”

Felix stood in the doorway. Dimitri glared at him, but his fist hesitated, hovering in the air like an executioner’s axe, ready to fall. “Felix--”

“Let me take care of it.” Felix moved into the room and placed a reassuring hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, squeezing. The pressure grounded him. A group of knights filed in, and Dimitri clenched his eye shut, wincing from the pounds in his skull. “A girl named Hapi is waiting for you in the attic with the painter kid,” said Felix. “Don’t get lost, Dimitri. Marianne needs you.”

_ Marianne needs you. _ If there was anything that would bring Dimitri down, it was that. He lowered his fist and pushed out an exhausted sigh. The world became centered again. “Thank you,” he muttered to Felix, pulling his hand free from Margrave Edmund. He turned from the room without looking back.

The stairs leading up to the attic were dust-covered and rickety. Dimitri felt the chill of the morning draft through cracks in the walls, which was welcome. It soothed him. He traced his shaking fingertips along the railing as he ascended the winding staircase. Marianne had lived like this, with the Margrave, throughout all his time knowing her.  _ I’m treated as well as I deserve, _ she’d told Dimitri that day in the king’s forest.  _ Maybe we both deserve tenderness. _

“Oh, Marianne,” he said with a weakened frown. “You deserved tenderness all along.”

Dimitri opened the attic door. Ignatz and Hapi were both sitting on the thin mattress that lay on the floor by a small, curtained window. Marianne was everywhere. Her presence was in the scattered, ragged dresses on the floor, the wooden bathtub by a filthy floor-length mirror, stacks of poetry books, iron horseshoes nailed to the wall and a moth-eaten rug draped over the back of an antique chair. 

“Hey Didi,” said Hapi, looking grim. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Where is Cornelia?” Dimitri flexed his fists by his side. “Do you know where she went, Hapi?”

“Nope.” Hapi shook her head. “I knew something was up when she didn’t come back from the ball last night.” 

“Tell me about her.” Dimitri moved to the old patterned chair and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. If he was to find Marianne alive, he needed information, which only Hapi could give. “Don’t leave out a single detail. Tell me everything.”

And Hapi did. She told him horrifying stories of experimentation, of his step-mother Anselma, of dark magic and hidden connections not even the Church of Seiros knew about. Wretched things, cursed things, happening right under his nose. Things that raised more questions than answers.

“Marianne is with these people?” Dimitri asked, gripped by terror. “Do you think she’s...”

“Dead?” said Hapi. “Not yet. Their base is somewhere east. I don’t know where, but it’s not close. She’s probably being transported there. I think.”

Dimitri buried his face in his hands, breathing deep. In and out, in and out.  _ Marianne needs you. Marianne needs you. _

Ignatz stood from Marianne’s bed, placing his hand on the king’s back, rubbing in small circles. “It’s okay, Dimitri. We’ll find her. Soon the whole kingdom will be looking too. And I’m sure if you ask Claude and Edelgard, they’ll help. They’re your friends. They wouldn’t want to see you unhappy.”

Dimitri supposed that was true. Claude was always willing to offer a helping hand, especially after a promise of reward, and El may be busy politically rivaling the Church, but his step-sister would aid if he asked. With all of Fódlan on his side, surely they would find Marianne alive and whole.

Right?

“Thank you, Ignatz.” Dimitri rubbed his face and stood, turning to the door, his posture slumped. “I think I need some fresh air.”

“Wait,” called Hapi. She rose from the mattress. In her arms was Dimitri’s old fur cloak, the one he’d all but gifted to Marianne. She offered it to him. “Take this with you.”

Dimitri reached out, holding the blue fabric between delicate fingers, afraid of the memories. He lifted the fur to his nose. The cloak no longer smelled like him, but soft and sweet like Marianne, like flowers, like summer. She’d truly slept with it as much as she said. He closed his eye, bidding the tears to stay deep within until he had answers. If he started mourning her now, he would never stop.

Dimitri draped the cloak over his shoulders and tied it secure.

“Will you help me search?” he asked, straightening his back. “I need your help. You two know her better than anyone.”

“Of course,” said Ignatz. “I can sketch pictures of her and pass them around.”

Hapi worked her jaw. “I think I’m gonna take a more direct route, if you don’t mind. Don’t ask questions. Just trust me, Didi.”

Dimitri nodded. “I do. Is Dorte safe?”

“Yeah,” said Hapi. “He’s in the barn. I just checked on him.” She turned to Ignatz. “Come on, Iggy. Let’s get some headway on this thing. Sunshine wouldn’t want us to mope around.”

Dimitri nodded to the both of them before turning away, descending the stairs and stepping out into the warm sunlit morning. The air did not ease him. Dozens of Fhirdiad’s finest knights rode into the courtyard, bowing to the king as they passed, seizing the Edmund manor to search for clues of the future queen. Dimitri couldn’t bring himself to join them. He walked aimlessly forward, unsure of himself or his destination. His feet led him to the painted barn. Dimitri swung open the great wooden door, and it clattered along the wall. The friendly cow  _ mooed _ in curiosity before returning to her feeding trough. Shelves of tools hung beside various coats and gloves. He could picture Marianne here, petting the cow on the head and telling her all about her day, humming to herself as she cleaned the pens and swept the hay-covered floor. She was happy here. Despite everything, all her suffering, Marianne had been  _ happy. _

Dorte reared in his stall, pleading for release. Dimitri came to the gate and eyed the iron padlock that kept him imprisoned. “How cruel of that man to do this to you,” said Dimitri. “I’m sorry, Dorte. I wish Marianne were here to calm the both of us.”

The least Dimitri could do was free Marianne’s panicked steed, even for a short while. With little effort, Dimitri snapped the padlock in two with his hand and pulled open the door.

Dorte charged forward. Dimitri jumped back just in time. Galloping from the barn, Dorte bolted down the road toward the distant forest without signs of stopping. “Dorte!” Dimitri called. He chased after him, his feet pounding into the gravel. “Dorte!” he shouted. “Come back! Where are...”

Dimitri came to a stop, panting, knowing it was useless. He could not match Dorte’s speed. The determined stallion disappeared beyond the treeline.

Another piece of Marianne, gone.

Dimitri sent a silent prayer to the heavens. A rare occurrence, but he was desperate. He closed his eye and prayed that Dorte would find Marianne, find her safe, find her whole, and keep her company until Dimitri could take his bride in his arms and protect her. Forever.

Dimitri began the fleeting trek back to Marianne’s manor, head hung in defeat, the voices babbling without end. 

Something sparkly at the edge of the path caught his eye. Dimitri turned.

A glass slipper sat twinkling in the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;_;  
> not thrilled with how this chapter came out tbh but it be like that sometimes. i promise you'll feel more fed next week! (and you'll get our last illustration!)  
> because of the nature of the last three chapters being the ending of this fic, i've decided to release them all at once. meaning, this story will be fully published and complete on september 21st, two weeks from now! next wednesday will be chapter 9, and the wednesday after will be chapters 10-12. hooray!  
> we're almost there, guys. thanks for sticking with me.


	9. A Truth in Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[light from night; eric owyoung](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FdyVpyeT7Y)]

The throbbing in her head roused Marianne. Dizzy and aching all over, she lifted her hands, rubbing her eyes into focus. Wood planks were all she saw. Sunlight peeked through the cracks, in motion, the wheels of a horse-drawn cart squeaking along a rocky road. Rainbows reflected off the butterflies in her gown. Groaning, she tried to sit up and center herself.

Her forehead smacked against the wood. Marianne reached out her hands to her surroundings, and the walls closed in.

She was not in a room, but a box. Inches separated her from the edges of her wooden prison, perfectly sized to fit a human’s shape.

It was a coffin.

Marianne screamed. She slammed her fists against the board above her, blood cold, heart hammering. “Let me out!” she cried. “Please, not this! Anything but this!”

“Dammit,” barked a voice from the outside. Someone knocked on the head of the coffin. “She’s not supposed to be awake yet. Knock her out again.”

_ “Please,” _ begged Marianne. “I can’t-- I can’t be-- in here--” 

She could barely breathe. Marianne trembled with sobs that rattled her to the bone. For a girl who fantasized about death, laying a coffin was too real, too damning. Her wailing was ceaseless. If panic could kill, Marianne was moments away.

“Hey!” shouted another person, this one more distant than the last. Her voice was familiar. Assertive. “You two ever heard a sigh that summons demons before?”

Hapi.

“Help!” Marianne cried. “Hapi, I’m here! I’m in the--”

A beastly roar vibrated through the wood and shook the ground. The cart stopped. Marianne heard fighting, clashing blades and battle cries and the cacophony of warfare. With a great lurch, the cart was tipped, and Marianne was jostled in mid-air before the coffin crashed and shattered upon the ground. 

Her ears rang from the impact. Marianne scrambled to her feet. Knights of Faerghus engaged with her black-robed captors, their armor glittering in the sun. Pulses of violet magic bent sound itself. Marianne ducked as an arrow flew over her head. Hapi led the charge atop a great demonic beast, it’s teeth bared, roaring in the wind. “Hapi!” Marianne cried again, but Hapi could not hear her. Marianne was useless in a fight. She rushed to the forest’s edge, hiding behind a tree for safety. 

One of the robed men caught her in the corner of his eye. The insignia on his chest was unfamiliar, but Marianne recognized the hostility in his stare. He turned and gave chase, purple wisps billowing from his fingertips.

She fled before she could think. Deep into the forest, Marianne ran on bare feet as fast as she could with the weight of her ballgown around her. Branches and stinging thorns scratched and clung at her skin, drawing blood, drawing pain. Adrenaline pushed her forward beyond what she was capable of. The sounds of battle long died, and Marianne only stopped when the footsteps of her pursuer were deafened by distance. She clutched her chest. Her heart ached with strain, and she leaned against a nearby tree to catch her breath.

The broken bark gave way. Marianne fell forward and over the edge of a small cliff, tumbling down a hillside until her head hit a rock, and she fell unconscious.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Her skull felt as though it had cracked. Marianne moaned in anguish and held her head in her hands, her eyes opening, vision blurred. Day had turned to dusk. The forest had grown cold. A rushing ravine could be heard somewhere near, and crickets sang their nightly hymn. She pushed herself to her feet. 

“Hapi!” Marianne called, though her voice was weak. “Hapi, I’m here!”

Marianne waited for a response, but only the croak of a frog acknowledged her.

She shivered and held herself close. Her gown was tattered and her hair had fallen from the bun, her makeup smeared, no longer a lady. Her magical glass slippers had long since disappeared and she had no bearings, no knowledge of where she was or how she’d gotten there.

Marianne was hopelessly lost.

She couldn’t remember much after Margrave Edmund had found her in the barn. Brought before Duchess Cornelia, she’d been humiliated and sold in the name of controlling the fate of Dimitri’s throne. The specifics were hazy. No detail of her supposed destination resurfaced. She could be halfway to the Empire by now, or Almyra, or the Alliance. How long had she been inside that coffin? In the hands of her former captors? Hours? Days?

Marianne knew she would never be found if she waited for help. Gathering what remained of her skirts, she followed the ravine, a frigid numbness settling in her heart.

Hours passed, and the sky faded to the dark of night. Her feet pulsed with cuts and bruises, begging her to sit down. Marianne found a place near the base of a great pine tree and hugged her knees to her chest. Her toes were like ice and her soles were bleeding, splinters dotting her heels and arches. Her stomach roared with hunger. There was no food, no clean water, no company, no point. Dimitri was lost to her. Even if she somehow managed to return to him, he’d surely spoken to Margrave Edmund and heard all her vile truths by now. How would he want her, cursed as she was? Why would he?

Marianne’s lower lip began to tremble. Her throat seized with tears. Sobs ripped from her chest and she wept into the night, holding her face in her hands. Oh, how close she’d been to true love, like the stories. She cried ugly, cried desperate, cried broken. It would be better to die in the woods. Let no one know the shame of her, least of all Dimitri, whom she could never bring herself to face if he’d truly learned her past. She could not bear to hear him say that he no longer desired her.

She curled up on her side, in the dirt. Tears slid down her face and into the dampened soil, and she wept until sleep blessed her.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Two days passed. Marianne did not move. She prayed for mercy, for the Goddess to swoop down from her holy seat in the heavens and hold her close, ascending, away. Her body was stiff and her muscles, sore. The sounds of the forest brought no comfort for her. Occasionally, she’d see a squirrel or a raccoon and smile a bit, a little trace of who she was clawing to the surface for air, only to once again be held underwater by the neck.

Marianne passed in and out of sleep. She lay still and prayed and prayed and prayed.

Darkness claimed the sky when she woke again. The twitter of a bird chirped by her ear, unabating. Marianne lifted her head. A robin cooed closeby, looking at her with its head cocked to the side, his tiny chest rising and falling with breath.

“Hello,” said Marianne with a smile of despair. “You sound lovely.”

The bird chirped in appreciation and hopped forward once. 

“I’m sorry, little one. I’m not very good company today.” Marianne laid back down, misery stinging the backs of her eyes. “I think I’m going to die here.”

Twigs snapped as the robin poked its beak into the ground, searching for food. Marianne noticed a worm squirming in the dirt with what moonlight she had. She plucked it from the earth, slimy and wriggling, and offered it to her new friend. “Here you are. Some breakfast for you, as a thanks for stopping by.”

The robin looked at her curiously, as if asking why she did not eat it herself.

“Humans can’t eat worms,” she explained. “I’ll get sick. But when I die, I suppose the worms will eat me, and then you and your family will have plenty to snack on.”

What a morbid thought. Marianne chastised herself -- this poor bird didn’t deserve the horrid depths of her mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Here, take the worm. Thank you for chirping for me. It cheered me up, if only a little.”

Marianne placed the worm before the tiny robin and turned away, facing the trunk of the tree.

Dimitri’s words echoed in her heart. _ I would spend all my days with you, my love, no matter what your story may be.  _ Perhaps that may have been true, once. But Marianne let hope trickle through her fingers until there was none. Dimitri knew everything now, she was sure. Hapi had risked far too much, and Marianne’s very presence in the forest was more proof that her Crest was cursed. Happiness could never be.

Still, even as she closed her eyes, Marianne could not help but smile at how wonderful it had been to dance with the man she loved.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Something nudged her face. Once, twice. Marianne groaned and pushed it away. “Leave me,” she muttered, letting her hand fall to the dirt. “Please go away.”

It nudged her again. Cold and wet, but a huff of warm air hit her cheeks, like breath. Marianne opened her eyes.

Dorte hovered over her, insistent that she rise.

“Dorte?” Marianne exclaimed. She scrambled to her feet, blood rushing to her head so fast that she nearly passed out. Dorte nuzzled her. Joy cracked through the hardened shell of her sorrow and she threw her arms around her dear friend’s neck, basking in his familiarity, laughing despite herself. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Dorte! I can’t believe it’s really you.”

He whinnied to her, an expression of love. Dorte wanted to protect her. She was important.

“I don’t know about that,” said Marianne, her smile fading. “Look at me, Dorte. I’m covered in dirt and mud. I’m filthy.” She stroked his mane and rested her head against his neck, letting his heat warm her to the core. “Did the Goddess bring you here to tell me not to give up?”

Dorte snorted. He didn’t know much about the Goddess, but he knew that Marianne was lonely. 

Marianne chuckled. “That’s enough of an answer, I suppose. Thank you for finding me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

A frown settled on her face as her thoughts returned to Dimitri. Was he alright? Would he be deterred by her curse and eager to forget her, or would he be pacing and terrified for her wellbeing, haunted in his head? He deserved an explanation, at least. After all he had done for her...

Marianne patted Dorte’s neck and used a nearby boulder to gain enough height to mount him. Her bones cracked and popped when she moved. “Come on, Dorte. I don’t know where we are, but I need to find a town or else I won’t make it.”

On a nearby branch, the little robin chirped.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Dawn gave way to daylight, which gave way to the afternoon. The sun was relentless. Forestry provided enough shade for a time, but it wasn’t nearly enough to staunch the humid heat that made Marianne’s skin feel sticky as she clutched Dorte’s reins. They couldn’t be near Fhirdiad anymore. South, perhaps, or East, closer to the Alliance whose summers were far more prominent. If only she were better with directions. If she had any practical skill at all, she could’ve found a food source or tracked footprints in the mud. “I’m sorry, Dorte,” she mumbled. “I’m useless.”

Dorte huffed, walking a bit faster down the path. Marianne hated that he worked himself harder for her benefit. “Please don’t overdo it,” she warned. Her throat was scratchy and dry. “I’ll never... f-forgive myself if...”

She could not finish. Sickly and frail, Marianne abandoned her words and left them dangling in the air.

The trees thinned as more hours passed, until dusk once again settled on the land. Dozens of trees blurred to hundreds, so overwhelming that Marianne’s eyes drooped closed. Three days of no food or water left her feeble. Her head began to hang, matted blue hair spilling over her shoulders as the world spun. New noises and sights swirled around her. Talking, shouting, the lights of lanterns, cobblestone. “Dorte,” she whispered, unable to look up. Her hands fell limp and she slipped from the saddle.

If she hit the ground, Marianne didn’t remember doing so.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Miss,” called a male voice. A stranger said something to her, but she couldn’t hear, her head plugged as though she was drowning in the King’s River again. What sweet release that would be. To let the icy water fill her lungs and breathe in, gasping --

_ Water. _ Marianne parted her lips for the cup that touched them, and drank the cold liquid that was offered. “There you are,” said the man. “Easy. You’re alright.”

Her body acted for her. Marianne grasped the cup and chugged all the contents within until it was gone. 

She opened her eyes. She was in a room now, four walls with a ceiling and floor, all made of stone. Worn candle holders held half-melted candles, wax spilled over the sides and hardened, but the wicks still burned. She’d been placed on a small cotton bed in the corner. Marianne held her growling stomach and grimaced from the pain in her side.

“You fell from the saddle,” said the man, sitting on the edge of the bed where she lay. He wore the robes of a priest and his smile was friendly, the wrinkles on his face reflecting his age. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

Marianne didn’t reply. She hugged herself, grateful for his help, but he was unknown to her.

“I suppose I should make an introduction.” The priest didn’t seem offended by her silence, and rested his hands in his lap. “I am the bishop of this little church. My name is Maechen. You are in a town called Luin’s End, on the border between the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance, though Luin’s End belongs to the former. In Galatea territory, specifically.”

“Galatea,” Marainne whispered, frowning. “I’m so far from home.”

“Yes. We are aware.” 

“What day is it?” she asked before he could continue. “And where is Dorte? If, um, you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all,” said Maechen. “Your horse is in the stables near the edge of town. Today was the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth, and it is nearing midnight. Tomorrow will be the first day of the Verdant Rain Moon.”

So the Goddess’s Rite had passed. How selfish of Marianne to wish for death on a holy day, of all days. She lowered her head in shame.

Maechen motioned to her torn dress, smudged with mud. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you, but it did not take long for us to figure out your identity, Lady Marianne. The king issued a decree shortly after the ball at Castle Blaiddyd, describing your person and urging the whole kingdom to search for you. We have sent an express messenger to Fhirdiad. His Majesty should be here before morning.”

Dimitri. A great lump rose in Marianne’s throat and her eyes began to sting. She looked down at her hands, at the tiny cuts and bruises on her pale arms, the dirt caked under her nails. She sniffled. “He’s looking for me?”

“Rather insistently, my lady. Would you like to read the message?”

Maechen stood before she could reply, his robes and white hair billowing behind him. He went to the opposite side of the room, retrieving a scroll from atop a table and handing it to her. She unrolled it.

> _ I, King Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, declare a state of emergency. Marianne von Edmund, the woman I intend to marry, has gone missing. I fear she has been kidnapped. She is youthful in appearance with hair the color of the blue sky, brown eyes and pale skin. She is of short and thin stature and wore a pink gown and glass slippers to the ball. If she is seen, I beg you to send word to Fhirdiad immediately. Should she be found alive and unharmed, whoever finds her will be handsomely rewarded. May the Goddess watch over you all. _

Dimitri’s eagerness to find her did not strike Marianne as hard as his use of her name: Von Edmund. He’d learned the truth. Her suspicions were confirmed. Marianne took a deep breath, trailing her fingertips over his handwriting. Familiar, full of comfort. Tears filled her eyes.

“Is it alright that we contacted the king?” asked Maechen. “Forgive me, my lady, but you don’t seem happy.”

Marianne shook her head. “I love him, but...” She raised her eyes to the kindly priest. “I fear speaking with him. He knows the truth about me, I’m sure of it. Where I come from, my parents, my adoptive father, my sadness, my Crest... I’m so afraid that he’ll hate me.”

Maechen sat down on the edge of the bed once more, looking upon Marianne not as a peasant or a king’s lover, but as a fellow child of the Goddess. He didn’t know the nature of the things she spoke of, but he appeared willing to help all the same. “Is that truly what worries you?”

She paused. “What do you mean?”

“It is evident to me that King Dimitri loves you, my lady. This fear of yours seems irrational.” He gestured to the parchment in her hand. “Are you certain there isn’t another feeling hidden within the one you’ve just expressed? A different fear, perhaps?”

Marianne furrowed her brow, looking inward. Searching. She supposed that the answer had always been there. The terror of being known, of being accepted without any selfish intent, gripped Marianne harder than all the rest. “I don’t fear that he’ll hate me,” she muttered. “I fear that he won’t.”

Maechen nodded.

“I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do with someone who loves me so unconditionally. What if I’m a burden to him? What if his affections are too difficult for me to accept when I feel sad?”

“Then you work together,” said Maechen. “Love is never so simple as a happily ever after, my lady. It takes effort. Toil and hardship. It is about finding someone who will help you weather your storms, as you will help them.”

“So, um...” Marianne sat a bit straighter. “What you’re saying is that even if his love is hard for me to face sometimes, that’s... okay?”

“Absolutely.” He patted her hand in encouragement. “So long as you are willing to receive his help, and reach for him when you are in need. The Goddess never intended for us to suffer alone.”

Marianne inhaled deep, letting Maechen’s words settle. Even if she didn’t fully understand them yet, she appreciated them all the same. “You’re very wise.”

Maechen chuckled. “I have been alive for many years, my lady.”

There was much to think about. Needing guidance no mortal could give, Marianne rose from the bed. Her feet were swollen and painful to stand on, and the herbal smell of medicine was nauseating, but there was no other way to move. “Would you not like to eat something?” offered the priest.

“Later, please,” said Marianne. “Thank you for saving me. But I think I need to pray right now.”

“Of course,” Maechen replied. “This parish is open to you.”

Marianne tried to smile. She opened the door and stepped out into the vestibule.

The chapel was just as modest as Maechen had said, with six rows of pews on either side of the aisle and four columns stretched to the arched ceiling. Little stained glass windows lined the walls among rusty candelabras, wax hanging low like icicles. A statue of Sothis stood at the altar, her divine head held high, surrounded by candlelight.

Marianne could be on her feet no longer. She came before the altar and fell to her knees, clasping her hands in remorseful prayer. She prayed for deliverance from her self-loathing and her callous pleas for death. She prayed for happiness and forgiveness, though she felt they hadn’t been earned, and for a way to accept Dimitri’s love even in her grief.

Marianne remained at the foot of Sothis for hours. Maechen attended to his duties around her, sweeping the floor, relighting the candles, stocking books and supplies. Birdsong twittered through an open window. She tried to keep her inner peace and focus on the Goddess, on listening for Her voice, for assurance, for sanctuary.

The sound of rushing horses pulled her from her reverie. At least a dozen strode into town beyond the parish walls, alerting the citizens, coming to a halt. “Marianne!” called Dimitri from outside. He sounded desolate. “Split up. Knock on every door until we find her.”

Marianne’s throat tightened. Maechen approached her side, his eyes soft with understanding. “Shall I bring His Majesty here?” he asked with a nod of support.

Maechen sought her permission. What a benevolent stranger he was, so fitting for a man of the Goddess. Marianne collected herself, resting her hands in her lap, summoning the courage to face the crossroads at which she stood. “Please,” she said.

Maechen walked with calmness toward the main door and left the chapel. “Your Majesty!” Marianne heard him shout through the window. “Your Majesty, this way!”

They spoke together. Marianne couldn’t hear what Maechen was saying, but knowing Dimitri was so close made her heart stutter in both anticipation and dread. She sat still on her knees and waited. He would come for her when they were done. She knew as much, in her heart of hearts.

Slowly, the doors to the church open and closed. Dimitri’s heavy footfalls came to a stop. The two of them were alone.

Dimitri didn’t speak, and Marianne didn’t face him at first, wringing her hands.

“Are you alright?” he asked after silence had its due. Dimitri’s tone was heartbroken. “Are you hurt?”

Marianne struggled to stand. Her legs were weak from hours on her knees and her feet throbbed, but she stood all the same. “I’m okay,” she said. Marianne turned to face him.

Dimitri looked a mess. His hair was disheveled and he hadn’t slept in days, dark circles making his eye look hollow. He was still beautiful. His shoulders carried his strength as well as ever, adorned in the fur cloak she’d loved so much, and his hands flexed at his sides, no doubt aching to hold her. Oh, how she yearned to be held too. But there was much to be said.

“The priest tells me you are sad,” said Dimitri, taking a step toward her. “He says your heart is heavy.”

Marianne forced a nod. “It is.”

“I am here to listen. I am always here to listen to you.”

She bit her lip, wringing her hands even tighter. Courage, courage. Marianne took a trembling breath. “You used my name,” she told him. “In your decree. Marianne  _ von Edmund, _ you wrote.”

“I did.”

“So you, um...” Marianne held her hands so tight that her fingers popped. “Y-You met him? Margrave Edmund?”

Dimitri sighed. “I nearly killed him, if truth be told. But yes. I met him.” He took another step closer. “He is imprisoned, Marianne, along with Cornelia. Hapi was able to capture her, and Margrave Gautier has been implicated in all this as well. You are safe now.”

“Maybe from them,” said Marianne, “but not from myself.”

Dimitri furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You know my story, don’t you?” She began to tremble. “He told you everything.”

Dragging his fingertips along the edge of one of the pews, Dimitri took another step, frowning. “I would still hear it from you, Marianne. I will forget all he said and listen to your account alone. Your truth is the only one that matters to me.”

Marianne held herself. She hated her hesitation. At the ball, it had been so easy to surrender, to consider the possibility that he might accept her for who she was. She had been hopeful. Now, after the agency had been ripped from her hands, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak at all. It would be simpler to run away. At least solitude and sorrow were familiar.

_ Reach for him when you are in need, _ Maechen had told her. Marianne balled her hands into fists and lowered them to her side.

“I was, um... I was born Marianne von Lear,” she began. “Not von Edmund. My father was a minor noble. We had a patch of land near Kupala in the Alliance countryside. We weren’t wealthy, but we were comfortable and the little village we watched over profited from their exports. It was a nice life.” Marianne looked to the window, longing to be a bird, to fly, to leave this place. “My father kept me inside, mostly. He and my mother raised me and educated me, but he was very paranoid. He warned me never to get close to anyone because it could cause irreparable harm to those around me. Because of my Crest.” She hugged herself again. “The Crest of the Beast.”

“Maurice’s Crest,” said Dimitri with a solemn nod. “I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s cursed, Dimitri. Everyone in my family line has died a terrible death or suffered misfortune because of it. Even my parents.” She swallowed the rise of bile and tears in her throat. “As the years went by, the villagers’ crops all turned black. My mother tried to say it was a rare insect, but my father knew it was our Crest. There was a plague, too. So many children died. And when the Crest scholar came and told the people it was our fault, they burst into our home and...”

Marianne burst into sobs. Shaking and whimpering, she continued, convinced she had to endure without his help to prove her strength.

“They beat my parents while I hid in the cabinet. They dragged my mother and father away and I never saw them again. All I remember is the sound of screaming.”

“Marianne,” muttered Dimitri.

“I ran. I found my way to Derdriu and lived in an orphanage for a short while, begging on the streets until Margrave Edmund found me. He’s my father’s cousin. He took me in and said that he wanted to tutor me as a noble, so that I might take over his lands and rule the Edmund territory when he died. But when he discovered I had the same Crest as my father, he disowned me. We moved to Faerghus when I was sixteen. I’ve been his servant ever since.” Marianne stared at the stone floor, quaking and miserable, guilty for her failures. “I’ve wished to end my life more times than I can count.”

“Please, Marianne,” Dimitri begged, sudden and insistent. When she looked at him, his eye was glistening. “Please let me hold you. Comfort you, somehow.”

“Even like this?” wept Marianne, holding out her arms. “Look at me, Dimitri. I’m covered in filth. I’m cursed. Just yesterday, I was pleading for the Goddess to take me to her. How can I ask you to love me like this? It isn’t fair.”

Dimitri closed the distance between them, and she did not recoil, even as he touched her cheek with his fingertips. Delicate, like she was made of glass. “Love isn’t something you should ask for. It’s something given to you.”

Marianne closed her eyes, a little smile peeking through. She lowered her arms to her side and leaned into his touch.

_ The Goddess never intended for us to suffer alone. _

“I want you to listen very closely to me, Marianne.” Dimitri held her face in his warm hands, tilting her head up to look at him. Despite the sadness and exhaustion in his eye, there was a burn there that couldn’t be washed away. “I  _ love _ you. Your kindness, your ability to understand me, has changed the way I think. I no longer look at the world the same way. I don’t see your supposed curse or your Crest or the dirt on your gown when I look at you. I see hope for the future. I see joy and happiness. I see a woman of unsurpassable light who can walk by my side and show me, every day, that I’m not alone.”

Of course. Of  _ course. _ How Marianne had ever denied Dimitri’s love, she would never know. He had proven it to her time and time again. A dark mind was a tricky thing. She placed her hands on his chest. The trembling had stopped, and she met his gaze, adoration blooming alongside shrinking despair. 

Dimitri had not cured her woes or her self-harming thoughts. But he provided her with assurance and comfort, which would help her grow strong enough to defeat it.

“Do you really see all those things when you look at me?” she asked.

“I do, my love. Every single one.” Dimitri brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones. A trace of insecurity flickered on his face. “What do you see when you look at me, I wonder?”

Marianne’s gaze was soft. “Tenderness.”

Dimitri broke into a sunlit smile. A tear slid down his face, dripping onto her hand, and he kissed her with a bruising force. 

Marianne slid her arms around his neck and returned every ounce of his passion. Dimitri picked her up and spun her in his arms, and they laughed between kisses, weightless, basking in their unconditional and boundless love. Their tongues met and their hands slipped into each other’s hair, along their chests and hips and necks and faces, beaming, giggling, together at last. Dawn bled through the colored windows, casting prisms along the walls.

“Marry me,” Dimitri breathed against her lips, holding her up in his arms. He circled her nose with his. “Marry me, Marianne.”

Glowing with joy, Marianne pressed her forehead to his. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

For a moment, the statue of Sothis looked down on them with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i care them  
> so i definitely did not MEAN to commission three artists for this fic. i went on a huge commission spree and brought up the option to the three amazing artists who ended up drawing for this, and all of them picked this fic out of the lineup!! so like... who was i to say no dlgkjaslgj. but this piece was done by the incredibly amazing and sweet gem. [he's on twitter](https://twitter.com/hanccck/status/1306196821438414849?s=20) and he does breathtaking work. please go commission him or RT his [commission post](https://twitter.com/hanccck/status/1304811066442964993) \-- he's gone through some shit this year and could use the financial boost! (and as you can see, his work is literally out of this world, like... what even.)  
> next week is the grand finale. i hope you guys have enjoyed this fun little thing i wrote. <3 see you on the other side!


	10. A Time for Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **soundtrack choice:**   
>  [[palemote; slow meadow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPFQ5W2apIo&ab_channel=SlowMeadow)]   
> 

A harrowing quiet settled over the throne room. Courtiers lined the walls to observe, bordering the king and his promise of judgment. Dimitri sat in his dark oaken chair, the seat of the sovereign, embellished with intricate carvings and silver filigree. Sunlight cast the shapes of the windows upon the floor.

In the center of the room, Duchess Cornelia, Margrave Edmund and Margrave Gautier sat on their knees, arms bound and chained.

Dimitri’s fists clenched. Felix stood at his right side, scowling, his grip on his sword hilt, his glare pointed to Gautier. Sylvain was beside his husband, eyes downcast. Dimitri couldn’t bear to see his friends so blatantly targeted. The mere idea that Margrave Gautier would try to kill his own son, his family of all people, infuriated Dimitri to the point where he’d ordered the executioner to sharpen his axe.

And Cornelia...

Dimitri had spent a great deal of time with Marianne before court to focus on his breathing, on her touch, to ground and center him. Justice was no easy task. He glanced at Marianne where she stood beside the throne, on his left. She was elegant, her beautiful hair flowing to her low back and a golden dress glittering off her frame. She was _here._ She was _safe._ It was all Dimitri needed to secure his confidence.

“Who would like to go first?” asked Dimitri as calmly as he could. Expelling rage before the court was a poor idea, no matter how it festered. “Margrave Gautier, perhaps? Your role in all this is the one that confuses me most.”

Margrave Gautier scoffed beside his peers. Sylvain was his spitting image, as Miklan had been. The Margrave’s well-kept hair and trimmed beard spoke of propriety, but there was a coldness in his eyes that Sylvain never inherited. “This is a farce, Your Majesty,” he spat. “All of it.”

“Do not avoid the question,” said Dimitri. “Why did you try to kill your son?”

“Because he is a fool.” Margrave Gautier straightened his shoulders, mocking dignity. “You are all fools. Crests are what keep Fódlan together. They are the Goddess’s gift. Defying Crests defies the Church. Take a look at Adrestia, Your Majesty. Will Faerghus abandon the Goddess like them?”

Dimitri knew of what Gautier spoke. El’s defiance of the Crest system and denouncing nobility was causing tension in the south. They’d been exchanging letters on the subject for years, though his sister’s approach to things was always more confrontational than his. Her own Crest-bearing male advisors had also decided to marry. Another ripple in the pond. “The system as it stands causes undue suffering,” said Dimitri. “Recent events alone prove that. Those with Crests and those without can positively coexist, I am sure of it. But that is not why you are here.” Dimitri leaned forward. “Why kill Sylvain?”

Margrave Gautier turned to Sylvain and Felix, his lip curling, eyes narrowed in disgust. “Sylvain had one obligation as my son and heir. Furthering the Crest of Gautier is all that matters, and he couldn’t even do that much. He abandoned his duty. He is no son of mine.”

Felix lunged. Dimitri rose quickly to stop him, but he didn’t reach Felix before Sylvain did, clutching his arm, holding him back. “Don’t,” snarled Sylvain. His eyes shone with fury, but Dimitri heard the sorrow buried underneath. 

“You really wanna let him go?” Felix retorted. “After everything he’s put you through?”

Sylvain loosened his grip on Felix’s arm. His smile tried to betray his suffering. “No, it’s not that. He’s just not worth your effort.”

 _“Me?”_ shouted Margrave Gautier, red in the face. _“Unworthy?_ You’ll regret the day you were born, boy. You--”

“Just execute him, Dimitri.” Sylvain brushed Felix’s cheek with his thumb, taking a moment for tenderness, and returned to the side of the throne. “I have nothing else to say. All he cares about is his stupid bloodline. He won’t use me or my mother ever again, and my Crest will fade into history. How’s that for fate, old man?”

Dimitri wouldn’t try to dissuade Sylvain. There was no reason to. With a wave of his hand, Margrave Gautier was taken away, back to the castle dungeons to await his death. His hateful shouts toward Sylvain and Felix lessened with distance until they were inaudible, and silence took the room again.

Felix didn’t say a word as he took his place beside his husband. They linked hands.

Dimitri took a deep breath, allowing the room to settle. “I want it known that this marriage is sanctified by the crown,” he stated to the court. “Crests and wealth should not dictate these unions, but love. Any further retaliation against Duke Fraldarius and Lord Gautier will be met with swift punishment.”

Most of the courtiers nodded in acceptance of the king’s decree. Others scowled, but Dimitri could not please everyone. So long as the law was upheld, he would not force the issue. There were graver matters at hand.

He did not proceed until Felix and Sylvain were well again.

Cornelia was next. Dimitri flexed his hands, clinging to the present as the chatter in his head was roused. Justice could often be fickle and fleeting, but not today. Not even the dead could distract him now.

“Care to put the pieces together for me?” asked Dimitri, motioning to the wicked duchess. “You don’t care about Crests, do you? All you wanted was power.”

“You’re a smart boy,” said Cornelia, her sultry voice still teasing despite her position. “Tell me what you think.”

“I think you plotted to have Marianne removed so you could control who I marry, as a means of controlling me. In exchange for Gautier’s help, you aided him in trying to kill Sylvain.”

“Hm.” Cornelia shrugged. “I suppose you’re not half as useless as you look.”

“Do not mock His Majesty,” warned Dedue, stepping forward from his position by the foot of the throne, axe held tight. “More words such as those, and they will be your last.”

Dimitri stood. His cloak billowing behind him, he descended the few steps and placed his hand on Dedue’s shoulder. They both knew what Cornelia’s sentence would mean. The weight of it hung in the air between them. Even so, Dimitri would not risk Dedue’s involvement for his own wellbeing. “Halt, Dedue. I can handle her.”

Dedue met his eye, silently asking if he was certain. Dimitri nodded his head. Ever the loyal vassal, Dedue returned to his place, but his grip on his axe was no less firm.

Dimitri crossed the distance between himself and Cornelia. He crouched before the duchess, inches from her, and glowered. “Hapi told me everything about you. About Anselma.”

“Did she?” Cornelia’s tone wavered, only just. “I’m not surprised that you’ve spoken with the little wretch, given your taste in peasants. Will you take her to bed too? She’s just as pretty as your bride-to-be.”

Dimitri ignored her. His voice remained perfectly pleasant, but the stare in his ice blue eye was hostile. “At first I was confused as to how you had befriended my step-mother, or how you controlled her. But after a long conversation with Hapi, I know the truth and the extent at which you did.” All his pleasantness fled. “Duscur. You took part.”

Cornelia met his glare with her own. It took everything inside Dimitri not to rip out her throat and coat the room with her blood, but with the support of his friends and Marianne’s love, he remained stable.

“You are a stain to Faerghus, witch. You act pompous, but you will not leave this place with your head, and no final words will be given to you.”

Dimitri rose and turned to the nearest knights. Whatever Cornelia said to him next, he did not hear. “Take her to the courtyard and execute her immediately. I want to see her head when you’ve finished.”

Dimitri drowned out Cornelia’s protests and the gasps of courtiers. The raucous rabble in his head quieted everything for a time. Justice for the dead was not served in full, but Cornelia’s sentence was a start, and that was all Dimitri could ask for until the whole truth of the Tragedy of Duscur was discovered. 

As Dimitri returned to the foot of his throne, he reached for Marianne, and she came to him. The warmth of her hands in his burned away his distress. He tried to smile. “You did so well,” she praised.

“I have your strength and the support of our friends to thank for that.” He kissed her knuckles. Dimitri glanced to Margrave Edmund where he knelt alone, head hung, his companions having been sentenced. As much as he yearned to see the Margrave put to death as well, the decision of her father’s fate was Marianne’s to make. “What would you have me do with him?”

Marianne bit her lip. She cast her eyes downward in thought as the knights ensured order from the surrounding nobles. She squeezed his hands again. “Can I speak with him?”

Dimitri sighed. He’d expected this. “I won’t tell you what to do. But the idea of you being anywhere near him makes me... uncomfortable, to say the least.”

“I know. But he can’t hurt me, Dimitri. You and the knights will keep me safe even if he tries.”

Dimitri would not refuse her. No matter his own feelings, Marianne was not his to control, nor would he ever try to. The courtiers fell back into silent observation. He kissed her forehead. “Be careful, my love.”

Marianne let go of his hands, and Dimitri’s spirit went with her.

She approached Margrave Edmund with more grace than he deserved. Marianne was ethereal in the sun’s rays, showering her in golden light. Margrave Edmund looked up at her, and for a moment, Dimitri saw regret in his eyes.

“Here we are,” said the Margrave. “You’re finally free of me.”

Marianne didn’t respond at first. She looked to the window. Dimitri wondered what was going through her beautiful mind. Would she be furious to the point of misbehavior, as he had been? Likely not. Marianne was a woman of kindness with a soft disposition. It was in her nature to forgive.

“Nothing to say?” asked Margrave Edmund.

“It isn’t me who should be speaking.” Marianne faced him, folding her hands in front of her. “If you have anything you’d like to say to me, Margrave Edmund, now is the time.”

The Margrave swallowed hard. His gaze never left Marianne. “I suppose I should explain myself, then.” He sat back on his knees and huffed. “I was promised a position as a Duke, should Duchess Cornelia and Margrave Gautier succeed with their plans. Cornelia wanted to control the Sreng princess like she controlled King Dimitri’s stepmother. Gautier sought to kill his son so that he might have better grounds to abandon his wife and seek a younger bride. His goal was to have more children and create a new heir with his Crest.”

Without warning, Sylvain stormed from the room. Dimitri frowned as he watched him go, wincing at the sound of a door’s slam. Felix quickly followed. It took a great deal of pain to crack Sylvain’s ever present mask. Of all the tragedy Dimitri had endured in his own life, and though his hallucinations liked to say otherwise, he knew in his heart that his father had loved him. No person should ever be robbed of that. Sylvain had never known it to begin with.

“So you... told them about Dimitri and I?” asked Marianne. “So that they would get rid of me?”

Margrave Edmund nodded. “I leveraged the information to make Cornelia promise me a dukedom. With you out of the way, the king would be forced to marry the princess of Sreng to protect the integrity of his Crest, and I would be rewarded.”

 _I would do no such thing,_ Dimitri thought, but he held his tongue. This was not his conversation to have.

“I see.” Marianne did not loosen her posture, staying strong throughout. “I don’t know what made you so cruel, my lord, but I hope you can find your answers someday.”

Margrave Edmund blinked in surprise. “You mean not to kill me?”

Marianne shook her head. She had more goodness in her soul than most, and Dimitri's heart bloomed with pride for her. “As much as you’ve hurt me, you also saved my life by adopting me. I would have died in Derdriu. So, um...” She took a breath. “No. I won’t ask the king to sentence you to death. But all your wealth and possessions will be taken by the kingdom treasury and Edmund will be governed by a new Alliance lord. Faerghus is no longer your home. Tomorrow, you will tell a boatswain where you wish to go, and a ship will deliver you there.”

Margrave Edmund’s expression twisted between shock, anger and sorrow, none of them dominant yet all of them present. “I’m sorry, Marianne,” he said to her. “I’m so sorry.”

Marianne wrung her hands. Dimitri ached to hold her, to bathe her in all the love she’d been denied, but she was not finished yet. “Only the Goddess knows if you really mean that. Still, I think She would want me to forgive you.” Marianne wrestled her hands apart and held them at her sides. Confidence returned to her voice, her shoulders straight, her gaze strong. “I’m sure that wherever you go, you will mourn the loss of me. But rest assured, father, that I won’t ever mourn the loss of you.”

She turned away. Two knights lifted Margrave Edmund by the arms to bring him back to the dungeon where he belonged. Dimitri refused to watch. He kept his eye on Marianne as she returned to him, pulling her into his arms, praising her unwavering courage.

It was no surprise that Cornelia fought to the bitter end, so wild that the executioner took three swings just to sever her head. It was even less of a surprise that Sylvain and Felix returned to Fraldarius territory after watching Margrave Gautier’s execution, and Margrave Edmund elected to sail to Derdriu in pursuit of connections that might help him avoid living off the streets.

But it was over. The trials that separated Dimitri and Marianne had been triumphed, the battle won, and the rest of their lives remained wondrously ahead of them.

At last, there was time to heal.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Sunset cast its glow along the frost-coated stable roof. An autumn chill hung in the air. Dimitri looked down from his position on the balcony, his elbows resting atop the cold stone rail, his trademark fur cloak draped over his shoulders. Marianne brushed Dorte’s mane alongside Hapi and Ignatz, chatting cheerily, adorned in a cloak of her own. She looked up. Dimitri smiled at his bride-to-be and pressed his fingertips to his lips, blowing her a kiss. Marianne beamed and sent one back to him.

Months had passed. Months of peace. Cornelia’s deeds were being thoroughly investigated and Dimitri had enacted several decrees denouncing the importance of Crests in the wake of Margrave Edmund and Gautier’s actions. Nobody challenged him. Not a soul raised concern when Marianne’s Crest was revealed to the public, either. There were those who called her a monster in secret, as they called him a blood-soaked madman, but by each other’s sides, Marianne and Dimitri could endure all.

Especially with their wedding less than a day away.

“Your Majesty,” called a dramatic voice at the entrance to the stables. Sylvain bowed low to Marianne, holding a bouquet of flowers, his boots crunching the fallen leaves beneath them. “I gotta admit, I missed seeing that smile of yours.”

“Sylvain!” Marianne set Dorte’s brush aside and ran to her friend while Hapi and Ignatz waved in greeting. Dimitri chuckled as he watched them. Marianne and Sylvain had been exchanging letters quite frequently in their time apart, and become close. Ever the Fraldarius and Blaiddyd families. Bonded for eternity.

If Sylvain had arrived, then surely--

“I thought I’d find you here,” said Felix from the doorway. Dimitri turned. Felix had grown out his hair in the time he’d been away, black locks falling to his mid-back, his fur-lined clothes keeping him warm. He smirked. “Watching over Marianne, I’m sure.”

“Always.” Relief eased Dimitri’s heart, and he came to Felix and embraced him. “It’s good to see you, my friend. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it in time for the wedding.”

“We would’ve come sooner if it weren’t for the damn snow. We might be here for a while if the pass doesn’t clear up before winter.” Felix’s kind smile meant everything to Dimitri; it was reserved for those closest to him. “Besides, I can’t pass up the opportunity to watch you cry like a baby in front of the whole kingdom.”

Dimitri sighed as they moved back to the railing. Sylvain and Marianne had started brushing Dorte together, talking with Hapi and Ignatz, laughing, connecting. “How is Sylvain holding up?” asked the king. “Better?”

“Better.” Felix placed his hands on the stone surface. “We put his mother in charge of Gautier territory and settled all his old man’s affairs. She wants to remarry.”

“I don’t blame her,” said Dimitri. “She deserves happiness after so many years married to a brute.”

Felix nodded. “And how’s your fiancé?”

Lovestruck, Dimitri smiled, resting his chin in his hand. “She’s perfect. She’s as charming and sweet and gentle as she’s always been. The orphans in town adore her, you know. We visited the new children’s home just last week. You’d think I didn’t exist with how much they doted on her.”

Felix grinned. “A queen is probably pretty exciting for them.”

“Indeed, especially since she and I are both orphans ourselves. We can’t wait to visit again.” Dimitri reached and patted Felix on the shoulder, his eye alight. “You have to join us for dinner. Our closest friends are coming to celebrate before the wedding tomorrow. The Blue Lions class will all be together again, plus Hapi and Ignatz. Even El and Claude are coming.”

“Just them?” asked Felix with a raise of his brow. “Only people we know?”

“Yes, as planned. Marianne and I want to enjoy tonight with our loved ones. You and Sylvain will always be included among the most important.”

A long sigh passed Felix’s lips. “You’re such a damn sap.” He waved to his husband and the others, summoning them inside, and faced Dimitri with a smile. “Come on, then. I’m starving. Let’s make tonight one to remember.”

And so it was. All of Marianne and Dimitri’s dearest friends gathered for roast boar, ale, Gautier cheese gratin and crisp cranberry salads. Laughter passed around the table as each guest recited memories of the couple and gave tribute to their happiness. Dancing and merriment ran late into the night, and when it was all over, Dimitri expressed his eternal love to Marianne before sleeping alone for the last time.

Their wedding was extravagant. Marianne walked down the aisle of the candlelit cathedral on the arm of Hapi and Ignatz both, a vision in lace and silk and her sweet, sweet smile. Dimitri wept when he saw her.

Vows were exchanged, promises made. Dimitri took his bride in his arms and kissed her with tenderness. For the rest of their lives, the King and Queen of Faerghus would be known for their intimacy and endless support for each other, for their shared kindness and open hand to all.

But the point is not just that they lived.

It is that they lived, happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN  
> ...but in true Fire Emblem fashion, we need epilogues.


	11. Epilogue Cards

**IGNATZ**

Ignatz had the high honor of painting the wedding portrait for the king and queen. Once unveiled, onlookers were so entranced by the quality that he was quickly flooded by commission requests. He painted over 500 works during the course of his life, and is remembered as the one of the greatest artists of all time. His most notable works include pieces depicting the Goddess and the Four Saints, as well as every portrait for members of the Dimitrian era royal family, down to Dimtri and Marianne’s grandchildren.

He eventually married a knight in King Dimitri’s guard and settled in Fhirdiad, adopting three orphans. Ignatz and his husband visited the royal family often and were respected by high society, as well as the Victor family, who gave their blessings to Ignatz’s marriage and profession.

**HAPI**

Less than a year after the royal wedding, King Dimitri and Hapi launched a full investigation into Cornelia and Those Who Slither in the Dark. Hapi freed those who suffered experimentation and, after years of pursuing the Agarthans, led the charge into Shambhala on the backs of demons. Once the battle was won, the king bestowed Hapi with a medal for her services to Faerghus. She later used the medal as a doorstop.

Professor Hanneman showed great interest in Hapi’s cursed Crest. After much trial and error, a cure was found, and Hapi was finally able to sigh in peace, which she did often. Hapi visited the king, queen and their large family whenever she could spare the time, bringing gifts and spending hours playing with the princes and princesses. They referred to her with affection as “Aunt Hapi.”

Hapi spent her later life traveling the world and charting stars. With funding from the Kingdom, she became the first king-appointed astronomer in Faerghan history. Her notes and charts, despite being hailed as breakthroughs, were filled with sarcastic remarks that endeared scientists for generations.

**DEDUE + MERCEDES**

After the birth of their first child, Dedue resigned his position as vassal to the king and returned to the newly-reclaimed Duscur with his wife. The two became a symbol of Duscur-Faerghan unity across all of Fodlan. Once Duscur was returned to its people, they built a home among Dedue’s garden of flowers and raised seven children with joy. Dedue took up a position as advisor to the leaders of Duscur and was voted mayor of his town. He travelled to Fhirdiad often with Mercedes, both on official business and to visit with the king and queen. His deep bond with Dimitri did not dwindle over distance or time. He was quoted as saying that his family and his brotherhood with the king meant more to him than anything. 

Mercedes continued her medical studies on Dimitri long after she moved to Duscur. Leaving charge of his care to Marianne, she and the queen exchanged letters about his condition and suggested treatment. With encouragement and support from Dimitri and Marianne, Mercedes aided in opening a care facility for those with invisible illnesses to further understand their afflictions. Her journals on the topic were referenced in medical debates in the years to come, and later scholars hailed her as the mother of mental healthcare.

Dedue and Mercedes’s third child, a daughter named Esmerelda, fell in love with Dimitri and Marianne’s eldest son, and became the first Queen of Faerghus with Duscur heritage.

**FELIX + SYLVAIN**

Felix and Sylvain’s marriage became more accepted over time. As the years passed and the king and queen continually lowered the importance of Crests in society, the nobility of Faerghus accepted the married lords as a legitimate couple. The obsession with their doomed bloodlines came to an end.

Leaving control of Gautier territory to Sylvain’s mother, Felix and Sylvain split their time between Castle Fraldarius and Fhirdiad. Felix acted as King Dimitri’s devoted right hand until the crown passed on. Sylvain advised his mother on the roles of governing and blessed her happy remarriage, welcoming a new little brother shortly thereafter. Sylvain gave his baby brother the name of House Gautier and all honorifics and privileges associated with it, despite not bearing a Crest or official ties to the family tree. They grew as close as two brothers could be.

Years later, Felix’s uncle married and had a child of his own, whom he named Olivia. Unfortunately, he and his wife were slain in a bandit raid from Sreng. Felix’s newborn niece became an orphan. Rather than leave Olivia alone forever, Felix took her in and raised her as his and Sylvain’s own daughter. 

When Olivia was six years old, she took up her father’s Relic shield to protect him during an assassination attempt. Her Crest activated. She grew to be known as Olivia Fraldarius, the Sword and Shield of Faerghus, with tenacity, grit, and a good sense of humor that reflected both of her fathers.

**DIMITRI + MARIANNE**

The king and queen of Faerghus were blessed with a peaceful reign. They were adored by the people, more than any royal couple in the kingdom’s history. Even the commoners were familiar with their faces, for Dimitri and Marianne walked the streets of Fhirdiad weekly and visited with merchants and citizens alike, listening to needs, admiring strengths. Their intimacy and love for each other shone with such clarity that a national holiday was created on the anniversary of their marriage, where lovers exchanged gifts and treated each other to nights of romance. The tradition continues to this day.

Dimitri’s greatest achievement was the installment of a participatory form of a government. Citizens voted for leaders in every region, who formed a parliament in Fhirdiad. He entrusted the care of this new democracy to his eldest son, Alexandre, who was crowned king after his father’s death several decades later. A number of Dimitri and Marianne’s five children became government officials as well.

Marianne worked diligently to improve conditions for the impoverished. She spearheaded wellness programs and built orphanages throughout Faerghus. With the support of many, she also enacted poaching laws and promoted animal welfare. She went on to earn the nickname of the Songbird Queen for her ability to sway the coldest hearts with her kind words.

King Dimitri and Queen Marianne’s tale is widely regarded as one of the most romantic love stories of all time. After their passing, a statue was commissioned by King Alexandre to honor the memory of his beloved parents. Erected in the town square of Fhirdiad, the stone statue depicts the king and queen in a loving embrace, forever young, gazing into each other’s eyes for a happy eternity.

Because of Queen Marianne’s mysterious shoes, now on display in a museum, brides throughout all of Fodlan wear glass slippers on their wedding day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well y'all, that's a wrap. Ever for You is finally done.  
> I wanted to be pretty lowkey about this whole fic. I wasn't super ambitious with it, didn't really experiment, I just wanted a good happy time while getting back into writing fic again. I didn't even have a beta! Idk, I'm happy with the way it turned out. Thanks for taking this journey with me!  
> I'm gonna shamelessly plug my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/moffnat). You can follow me there for more FE3H and Dimimari content. There may just be an announcement waiting on October 1st...  
> If you're not interested in reading the bonus smut chapter, this is where I leave you. Have a wonderful day and stay safe and healthy out there in the world.  
> <3


	12. Bonus: A Queen for Faerghus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ **[soundtrack choice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54LgyqSPfsQ&ab_channel=MarvinGaye-Topic)** ]

Dimitri was never fond of lengthy lectures. He would rather learn by action, with his body rather than the mind, but there was no proper way to practice a wedding night, was there? All he had to learn from were the experiences of his peers. And so Dimitri listened, his face red, sitting in a chair in a guest room while Sylvain explained intimate things in startling detail. Felix periodically rolled his eyes from his seat by a frost-covered window. Dedue, much to Dimitri’s surprise, would nod in agreement from time to time.

It was an old Faerghan tradition that separated man and wife before they joined on their wedding night. After the feast, the bride would be escorted to her new chambers by her closest friends -- Hapi and Ignatz, in this case -- and dressed down while being given words of encouragement. The groom went to a separate room with those he held dear to be treated similarly. A friend of the bride would eventually come to tell him that his wife was ready, and he would go and knock upon their chamber door, entering when she gave permission.

Sylvain’s intent was to prepare Dimitri with as much information about female pleasure as he could in the time they had. Dimitri never should have indulged him.

“...and that’s about all I can think of,” said Sylvain, running his fingers through his ginger hair. “I mean, I could say more, but Hapi will be here to get you soon.”

“Thankfully,” Felix retorted.

“Hey, I’m only being of service to the king. It’s a big day for him. And for Marianne, too. She’s earned a good time.”

Dimitri groaned and held his face in his hands. Beside him, Dedue chuckled.

“You’ve laughed at me more in this past year than you ever have,” said Dimitri, turning to his vassal, his companion. “Do you have any other advice for me, Dedue? Anything to add?”

Dedue placed his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. The orange hue from the fireplace made his skin glow. “You should not listen to Sylvain so much, Dimitri. Listen to your wife’s body instead. It will tell you all you need to know.”

“Her body?” Dimitri asked. “You think so?”

Dedue nodded. “I speak from experience. Watch her expressions. I believe you are wise enough to know Marianne’s signs of delight.” Dedue returned his hand to his lap, his shoulders shrugging a bit. “Although, what Sylvain said about a woman’s favorite spot... that is good advice.”

Dimitri sighed, his ears burning hot. His friends weren’t trying to embarrass him in the slightest; they were trying to aid him as any good friend should. That didn’t stop Dimitri’s mind from wandering. He felt frazzled, pulled apart and glued tight together all at once, picturing Marianne in all the positions Sylvain had described. Nights cuddling in each other’s beds to stop nightmares felt quite chaste all of a sudden.

A knock came at the door. Dimitri shot up from his seat, gulping. “Hey Didi,” called Hapi. “Can I come in?”

“Uh,” was all Dimitri could say.

Hapi entered. When she opened the door, music from the still-lively wedding feast bled into the room, cut off when she shut it again. She’d changed from her rich silk dress shortly after the ceremony into something more comfortable. Pauper’s clothes to some, but to Hapi, they were perfect. She snorted when he saw Dimitri. “You look like you’re gonna explode.”

Dimitri huffed a laugh. “I just endured a rather long explanation on the female form from Sylvain, here.”

“Stop shaming me,” defended Sylvain, slinging his arm over Hapi’s shoulder. “You get me, don’t you Hapi? Dimitri has to know all the ins and outs before he goes in and out. It’s just common courtesy.”

Hapi crossed her arms and chuckled. “Whatever you say, Loverboy.” She motioned with her chin to Dimitri. “Sunshine’s ready for you. Be good to her, yeah?”

All the world seemed to halt. Dimitri was paralyzed with the need for his wife and the fear that he wouldn’t be able to satisfy her. After everything she’d been through, Marianne deserved every ounce of pleasure he could possibly give. What if it wasn’t enough?

“It’s showtime.” Sylvain pointed behind him with his thumb. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Shut _up,_ Sylvain,” laughed Felix. “You’re insufferable.” He rose from his seat by the window and patted Dimitri on the arm. “Good luck.”

Dimitri nodded, straightening his shoulders. He glanced to Hapi and Sylvain and Felix, to Dedue, who nodded in encouragement. His friends were supportive as ever. All that remained was for Dimitri to show Marianne just how much he loved her.

He left the room without looking back.

Dimitri’s bare feet padded along the castle’s stone brick floor. The party in the ballroom below appeared unending, sounds of celebration drifting up through the walls. The wedding had been beautiful. The feast, bountiful. The promise of a matriarch, of heirs and a continuation of the Kingdom’s royal line made even the lowliest peasant feel patriotic. Queen Marianne was not a nobleman’s daughter. She had not been promised to Dimitri through arrangement, nor had she worn pearls or a silk dress when they met. She was a farm girl, an orphan. Her dearest friend was a horse. Dimitri had met her in rags and loved her all the same, and their passion bred a story for the people to admire. Dimitri could see the streets of Fhirdiad overflowing with joyful citizens when he peeked out the nearest window. “Long live the queen!” he heard them shouting, and he smiled. “Long live the queen!”

Dimitri ascended the stairs to the castle’s fourth floor, down a hall lined with torches and watchful knights. It felt strange to walk so openly in his bedclothes. A chemise left open at the chest and a pair of breeches was all Dimitri wore to meet his wife. There was no need for jewels or crowns in the bed of newlyweds. They may be a king and queen, but above all, Dimitri sought only to cherish Marianne and fulfill her, as a man and nothing more. The rest was secondary.

He came to their chamber door. Heart pounding in his ribcage, Dimitri stared at the intricate ironworks, the emblem of Faerghus at eye level, and sighed. Beyond the door, Marianne, his bride, his queen, awaited him. He gathered his willpower and knocked.

Marianne’s voice was soft on the other side. “Come in.”

He opened the door and closed it behind him.

The atmosphere of their chambers was already different. Servants had sprinkled white rose petals along the floor and dozens of lit candles illuminated the room in a golden glow. A single trunk of Marianne’s belongings sat near a chair by the cracked-open window, waiting to be sorted through. Snowflakes drifted in the air outside.

When Dimitri turned to the hearth, he saw her. Marianne stood by the fire in nothing but a thin nightgown stitched with lace, the string tied in a bow just below her collarbone. Her pale blue curls were draped over her shoulder, their length reaching her small waist, and her cheeks were flushed.

“Hello,” said Marianne with a shy wave. Goddess, she was everything. They’d seen each other in bedclothes before, whenever one of them had a bad dream and sought the other for solace, but this was different. They both knew it.

“You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress,” Dimitri told her, his throat dry, “but I think I prefer you like this.”

Marianne offered a little smile. “You do?”

“Most certainly.” Dimitri came to her, stopping at a barely respectable distance, looking down at Marianne with the purest adoration. “You’re not a servant or a queen or a lady when you’re in a nightgown. You’re just... yourself. You’re human.” He took a piece of her hair between two fingers, admiring the color. “You are the woman I fell in love with, and nothing more.”

She chuckled. “I’m still the same person when I’m wearing normal clothes.”

“That’s true. But here, like this, it’s just the two of us. No obligation or duty.” Dimitri reached up to glide his fingertips against the side of her head, in her hair. “You’re relaxed. It’s intimate.”

Marianne’s eyes fluttered closed. _Listen to her body,_ Dedue had said. Dimitri lifted his other hand and repeated the motion, running his fingers through her locks, making her sigh.

If Dimitri were an ungentle man, he would take her then and there, rutting into her like a hound from how desperately he craved her. But he would never treat Marianne with roughness. He would move slow, savor every moment, every sound and expression she made. He would worship her as he felt was long overdue.

“Before we do anything else,” said Dimitri, holding her face in his hands, “I just want to kiss you for a while. Is that alright?”

Marianne closed the space between them. He felt her hands trail his exposed chest, mapping his form, and the touch of her skin made sparks burst within. “Yes,” she said. “That sounds nice.”

They shared a smile. Dimitri leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, gentle, calm, unrushed. Their kisses stirred him as they always did, and he was already hard, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones to show how precious she was to him. Marianne responded in kind. She lifted her hands to rest on either side of his neck, and their mouths brushed together before meeting again.

“Kissing you might be my favorite thing in all the world,” Dimitri murmured against her lips. 

“Mine too,” she replied, flustered. “Kissing you, I mean.” Marianne’s eyes were glazed with lust, and it spurned Dimitri to deepen their contact, his tongue claiming hers. She hummed in delight. He would never tire of the feel of her mouth against his, moving together in passionate tandem. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. They devoured each other, the innocent kisses of virgins melting into something far more lecherous. Consumed, Marianne let out a noise of displeasure when he pulled away.

“Here,” said Dimitri, breathless as he led her to a velvet chaise by the fire. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the sizable bulge in his breeches, though he supposed it didn’t matter. “For comfort.” He sat down on the edge of the chaise and patted the spot beside him, eager for her to sit and resume their heated kiss.

But Marianne did not. She bit her lip and toyed with her hands, her mind clearly occupied. “Is something the matter?” Dimitri asked. “Please, if you’re uncomfortable, I beg you to say something.”

“N-No, it’s... it’s not that.” Marianne came to him. Not to his side, but in front. “I just, um...”

She answered with action. Marianne placed her small hand on his shoulder and lifted her knee, sliding it atop the chaise against his right thigh.

 _Oh._ Desire surged inside Dimitri, powerful and demanding. It must have shown in his eye, or perhaps she believed herself too forward, for Marianne seemed uncertain. She hesitated. “I don’t want to do anything wrong.”

“You could never,” Dimitri encouraged. He had no issue taking the lead. Dimitri guided her into his lap and turned to lean back against the head of the chaise, at an angle, taking her with him. His hands rested at her waist as Marianne settled, straddling him fully. The weight of her on top of him was divine.

She placed her hands on his firm chest. “Is this okay?”

Dimitri couldn’t help but grin. “Yes, my love. You’re perfect here.” He summoned her down to him with a finger. He circled her nose with his before taking her lips in a kiss.

Marianne slid her arms around his neck. If he could taste, Dimitri imagined her tongue to be sweet, like a cherry. He returned her fervor with his own and mirrored the need that had long been kindling. He held her tight, propping up his knees to bring her body closer. Knowing that mere layers of fabric separated their bodies was enough to make him want to tear it all away. Marianne’s eager hands tugged at his shirt, as though she’d read his mind. Dimitri broke their kiss to lift his arms. She pulled upward, and the chemise came free from his chest, falling to the floor. 

Marianne’s satisfied sigh brought relief. Her gaze travelled along his bare chest, his shoulders, his stomach, his every muscle and ripple and scar. Dimitri would have been self-conscious if he didn’t know the depth of her love. Though she didn’t give it words, Dimitri could see the hunger in her grey-brown eyes, and it stoked his fire.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. Marianne’s delicate fingers traced his skin, sometimes over scars, sometimes not. “Um... I mean, handsome.”

“Beautiful is just as much of a compliment,” he assured. “I used to think I was hideous. I’m still a bit convinced.”

“How?” said Marianne. “That seems impossible. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“And _you_ are the most beautiful person _I_ have ever seen.” Dimitri lowered his hands to rest on her hips. “Although, if I recall, you don’t believe you are beautiful either. That is far more outrageous to me.”

“Mm.” Marianne leaned in, kissing his cheek. “We both have things to work on.”

“That we do.”

“But, um... you know?” Marianne curled Dimitri’s hair behind his ear and smiled. “You make me feel beautiful, which is enough for me.”

Dimitri grinned and nuzzled her face, pressing kiss after kiss down her cheek and neck, relishing the moans that followed. Her skin smelled sweet. Like rosey soap, mixed with her natural scent. “Then I consider myself a temporary victor. Though I won’t say the battle is won until you believe your beauty in full.”

Perhaps he would have to show her.

Marianne’s giggle was swallowed when he kissed her hard. Tongues, teeth, whimpers between battered breaths mixed with the crackle of the fire. He gripped her hips and ground against her, making them both gasp, and Marianne pressed her forehead to his, eyes closed. Dimitri could feel her sex rubbing the fabric over his cock and he ached for it to be removed, to feel her raw heat. He slid his hands up her thighs beneath her nightgown, kissing her wildly before pulling back. “May I take this off you, my love?”

Marianne nodded. She sat back in his lap to let him continue, her chest rising and falling fast. He raised his hands slow along the curves of her body, over her perfect hips and the dip of her waist, the sides of her ribs and breasts, up, and over. He tossed her nightgown aside and looked upon her naked form.

Marianne was an angel. Pale skin dotted with freckles, her shape was flawless, breasts sized perfectly for his large hands with little pink nipples hardened from desire. A patch of blue hair spread between her thighs below a flat stomach. Dimitri’s starved gaze trailed her body from knees to collarbone. “Marianne,” he murmured.

Her cheeks were red when he looked at her, that sweet shyness on display. His groin throbbed with the need to _feel._ He wasted no time. Dimitri leaned forward and took one of her nipples in his mouth, teasing the other between thumb and forefinger.

Marianne’s shudder and gasp was delicious. She didn’t stop her sounds, as Dimitri preferred, and clung to him as he pleasured her. He circled his tongue along the peak and sucked, his finger making light traces along the other. Dimitri hummed against her skin and continued until he needed a switch, then moved to take her left breast between his lips, teasing her other nipple with his opposite hand. He could listen to her moan forever. The weight of her breasts in his hands, in his mouth, made him feel as though he was made for this sole purpose.

“Dimitri,” whimpered his wife, rolling her hips against him. They moaned together. 

“Do that again, please,” Dimitri begged against her skin, and Marianne obliged, drawing pleasure from both of them, the pressure teasing a promise of release. Dimitri wasn’t finished touching her breasts, but Marianne moved away, scooting back enough to reach between them and work at the damp ties on his breeches. 

Lust rippled down his spine. Dimitri chuckled. “I didn’t think you would be this bold.”

“You’re difficult to resist,” Marianne countered with a smile. She finished with the laces and curled her hair behind her ears. “I want to make you feel good, Dimitri. That’s all I want.”

“I’d say you’ve accomplished that in spades.” He placed one hand on her thigh as she reached under the fabric, pulling his cock free from restraint.

Dimitri was hard and heavy in her hand, his tip purple and pleading for contact. He wondered what she would do. Marianne’s eyes observed his every inch with a captivating stare. She eyed him so long that Dimitri began to worry. “If it’s unsightly, you don’t have to look.”

Marianne offered a coy smile. “It’s not unsightly at all. It’s just different.” She gave him a slow stroke, and Dimitri bit his lower lip. Marianne resumed her previous position, scooting up to straddle his hips, his length resting flat against his belly.

His heart pounded in his chest. Dimitri cupped either side of Marianne’s neck, feeling her pulse there too, and she lowered herself, rubbing her sex against his shaft, coating him in her desire.

They moaned in unison. Marianne was soaking wet and so very warm. The sensation left him gasping. She whimpered and moved her hips again, and Dimitri’s cock throbbed, leaking need onto his skin. Marianne rested her forehead against his. Dimitri grabbed her by the hips and thrust upward to meet her, and they grinded back and forth, moaning, kissing, running their hands up and down each other’s forms. The burning between her legs ignited him down to the tips of his toes. Dimitri had yet to enter Marianne, but already his pleasure was threatening to burst. 

“Marianne,” he whispered against her mouth. Dimitri’s gaze was so heated that his vision blurred. “I want you, my love. I want to feel you.”

Marianne whimpered and nodded. She kissed him with such fire that the hearth grew envious. Dimitri motioned to his bed -- their bed. “Will you wait for me there?”

“Y-Yes.” She kissed him again before moving off his lap, and Dimitri watched her every second as she padded over, crawling atop the fur blankets, sitting on her knees, her wet upper thighs glistening. He pulled down his breeches and tossed them aside. Dimitri took a moment to douse the flames in the fireplace, darkening the room. Golden candlelight flickered along the walls.

Dimitri came to the edge of their bed, to her, unhurried against his most carnal wishes. Marianne stood up on her knees to meet him. With the height of the bed frame, she was taller than him, and she rested her arms on his shoulders as he took her by the waist, looking up at her with devotion. 

“Goddess, you’re beautiful,” he told her. Dimitri brushed his nose against Marianne’s, around and around. “You’re _so beautiful._ ”

Marianne beamed under his affections. “Thank you.” She pulled his eyepatch over his head and dropped it to the floor. His right eye was a mangled, gnarled mess of flesh, but Marianne had seen it before during nights snuggled tight to chase their fears away, insisting that she wanted to see all of him. Dimitri was no longer insecure. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he groaned. She kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, the corner of his mouth before coming to his lips. Marianne’s compassion held such power. “I love you,” she said.

“As I love you.” Dimitri moved his hands up her hips, to her waist and down again. “With all my heart.”

He gently laid Marianne on her back and sat on his knees between her parted legs. Dimitri gazed down at her, at her blue hair spilled like a halo around her saintly head, her hazy eyes, her lustful half-smile. She looked just like she did in his dreams. She was a goddess in the quivering candlelight.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” said Dimitri with a smirk. “Only how much I want to ravish you.”

Marianne giggled. She pushed herself upright, placing a hand on his right hip. “You deserve to be ravished too, Dimitri.”

“So you’ve said.”

“But I know you.” She kissed his shoulder. “I know you’ll be good to me, so much that you’ll make me forget about being good to you, because you don’t like being cared for. You would rather give love than receive it.”

Her words were a painful truth. Dimitri frowned, caressing her cheek as he looked down at her. “For the longest time, I did not believe myself worthy of love. I’m still not quite sure that I am.”

Marianne leaned into his touch. “I understand. I feel the same way.”

“I know you do, my love. It is part of what draws me to you.”

They shared a tender kiss. Dimitri cradled her face in his hands, her head craned up to meet his. Their shadows made love along the walls.

“We’ll gain confidence tonight,” said Dimitri at last. “Then tomorrow, when we’re certain of pleasure, we can ravish each other in all the ways our hearts desire. We have a whole week to ourselves to learn, after all.”

“Okay,” Marianne agreed. “Confidence now, ravish tomorrow.” She laid down on her back again, reaching out to him. “Come here. I want to kiss you more.”

Dimitri chuckled. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He crawled atop Marianne and sealed their lips in a kiss that spoke of passion, of yearning, of their unconditional trust. His cock twitched eagerly against her soft thigh, and she shuddered. He reached between them and kept his eye focused on her as he lined himself with her entrance. The warm, slick heat of her along the head of his length forced him to bite back a groan; Marianne’s comfort would come before his, always.

She hummed and clung to his shoulders. Marianne held his gaze, spreading her legs a bit more so Dimitri could nestle between them. He kissed her once more. “Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath and released. “Yes.”

Dimitri kept one hand at the base of his shaft and sat back on his knees. His free hand reached for Marianne’s, lacing their fingers together. “I was told that this may hurt you, the first time.”

“It can.” Marianne rested her other hand on her stomach. “I’m not scared.”

“I’m glad,” said Dimitri, “but if it hurts even for a second, please say something. I can’t bear the thought of you in pain.”

“I will. I promise.”

Dimitri moved his head along her opening. Soft and wet, so eager for him. A shiver ran down his spine and Marianne gripped his hand tighter. He could feel her sensitive nub and watched her quake when he rubbed her there. “Ready, my love?”

“Please,” begged Marianne.

Dimitri gently pressed inside her.

He watched Marianne’s expressions with care. Whenever she furrowed her brow or whined, Dimitri would stop his slow crawl forward, allowing her body time to stretch and adjust. He showered her face and neck with kisses. Her breasts, he caressed and sucked until her whines became moans, and he continued with his initial thrust until he’d entered her to the fullest. The sensation of her warmth around him was breathtaking and all his instincts screamed at him to move, but he waited until his wife was comfortable, not allowing himself the luxury of pleasure until he knew she could feel it, too. “How is it?” he asked.

“Strange.” Marianne met his gaze. “Not incredibly painful. Just strange.”

Dimitri leaned over her, kissing her cheek, propping himself up on one hand while the other caressed her waist. “Is it safe to move?”

“I think so.”

Marianne braced herself on his shoulders. With a nod, Dimitri slowly withdrew, then pushed inside her again, just as slow as the last time. Her breath hitched. A thousand sparks tingled through him, from their joining and up his back, but Dimitri swallowed his voice, unwilling to let it out before Marianne was at ease. 

A few more languid, silent thrusts, and Marianne’s furrowed brow laxed, her lips parting with a moan.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Good,” sighed Marianne, holding his face and kissing him. “Very good.”

“Shall I continue?”

_“Please.”_

Dimitri’s next thrust pulled a groan from him, giving himself permission to enjoy. Marianne was dripping and warm and her inner walls squeezed him tight whenever he moved, bringing friction that made waves through them both. The way she whimpered for him brought a pleasure all its own. The unhindered desire in her voice gave him goosebumps, and the carnal look in her luscious brown eyes could make any man fall under her spell. But she did not belong to any man. Marianne was _his_ wife, _his_ to protect, _his_ to adore.

“Dimitri,” she moaned, gasping as he sped his pace. She snaked her fingers in his hair, making him grin, and brushed her nose to his when Dimitri pressed their foreheads together. Heat accompanied the tension inside her, growing hotter with each push and pull. 

“You feel incredible,” Dimitri murmured, kissing her cheek. “Goddess, you’re beautiful. My love. My angel.”

Faster. Dimitri moved inside her with such need that their noises of pleasure were accompanied by the sounds of their joining, the slap of skin, wet and repetitive. His blood turned to fire. He watched her lift her knees higher and higher, brow furrowing. _Listen to her body._ Dimitri hooked his arm under her right knee and leaned his weight on his hand, reaching between them with the other, circling her little core with his thumb.

Marianne cried out. She clung to Dimitri as he stole a hungry kiss. The pitch of her voice raised and her breath came quickly. Close to the edge. Dimitri held off his own building release as best he could and focused on his bride. “Let go,” he encouraged, pumping inside her, his thumb working where she needed it, drinking in her expression like a dying man led to water. “Let go, my love.”

Marianne looked up to him with the sweetest eyes, eyes that pleaded, before she fell. Her whole body clenched and released and clenched again, and her desperate moans echoed off the chamber walls. She gripped his shoulders and arched her back. Her pink lips parted to let out cries of pleasure, eyes shut, hair spilled wildly around her.

Dimitri could not hold back. He soaked up every second of her climax and thrust hard, her tight muscles letting him feel her every inch, hot and dripping wet, the friction and the look in her eyes overwhelming, begging for him to--

A guttural groan escaped him. Dimitri buried his face in Marianne’s neck as flames licked down his spine, from his skull to his toes and back again. Her name sputtered from his mouth and he tasted sweat when he kissed the crook of her shoulder. Waves of euphoria slowly dulled to ripples of an otherworldly sort. He lifted his head, breathless.

“You are perfect,” Dimitri praised.

Marianne’s giggle brightened the room. She trailed her fingertips up and down his shoulder blade, her other hand massaging the back of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He kissed her deeply. They took several moments to catch their ragged breath, nuzzling noses, beaming. The candles exaggerated the romantic gaze in her eyes. Winding down from the high, they showered one another with little kisses and affectionate touches that defined tenderness. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” asked Dimitri. “Was it the Goddess who brought you to me? If so, I will worship for all my days.”

Marianne hummed. “A snake came out of the bushes and scared Dorte,” she said. “Remember? He ran off into the woods.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Dimitri grinned. “I shall knight him.”

“Knight who? The snake?”

“Certainly. Sir Python of the Underbrush, for bringing my love to me.”

Marianne came alight with laughter. His favorite, favorite sight. Dimitri laughed with her, holding her close, kissing up and down her neck. “Sir Python of... Dimitri, you...”

“It wasn’t that funny,” Dimitri chuckled. “But if you keep laughing, I’ll feel like a jester.”

“Maybe that was your missed calling,” said Marianne. “Instead of a king, you should have told jokes for a living.”

“Would you have still loved me if I offered you wit and poor humor instead of a kingdom?”

“Mm.” Marianne curled his hair behind his ear. “I would love you in all ways, in all walks of life. It never mattered to me that you’re a king. I loved you before I even knew.”

Oh, how he adored her. Dimitri leaned down and kissed her with all the passion he could muster, still inside her, holding her close. “As I loved you.” He kissed her again, sweetly. “My light.” Another kiss. “My angel.” Another. “My love in all things.”

Marianne sighed is bliss. “You’re so sweet.”

Dimitri just smiled. “Ever for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Love you guys. :')


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